


Nine Hundred and Sixty Four Miles

by VexedBeverage



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Hatfilms, The Yogscast
Genre: Blood, Fighting, Gore, Hatslash, M/M, Violence, Yogslash, Zombie AU, smornby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 61,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VexedBeverage/pseuds/VexedBeverage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have always wanted to give the zombie au thing a go - so here you go. </p><p>Hat Films zombie au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Outbreak

No one could really say with any degree of certainty, when exactly the world started to fall to shit.

Some would site the month of May, the month when the first reports of a new illness sweeping through mainland Europe came in. Others would say that it wasn’t until the borders closed and traveling outside of the UK was restricted- and then eventually stopped all together. 

For Ross Hornby and Chris Trott they didn’t think much about it at first, two men barely scraping twenty had much more to worry about with their third year of university underway. Deadlines approaching, dissertations to complete and games that just couldn’t be left un-played. 

The conspiracy theories and propaganda did nothing but amuse the two friends, talks of the end of the world approaching that caused eye rolls and snorts of dismissal when they passed the people on makeshift podiums on their way into town.

Helplines were set up, it really didn’t seem any different to the time of swine flu or bird flu or any other outbreaks that had swept through the developed world in recent years – it was certainly not as dangerous as the MRSA epidemic which had wiped out so many weak and old in the hospitals years previously, was it? 

The denials kept coming, politicians and doctors and specialists on every available media channel trying to calm a nation that was slowly simmering hotter and hotter, soon to boil over. 

The rioting started in August – the hot weather adding to the strain of the lies being fed to the masses. Regional travel was restricted, people being told not to travel unless urgent. Blockades set up around major towns and along motorways to try and combat the spread of the illness. Still not everyone thought it was that serious, how different was this from the restricted animal transport from the foot and mouth outbreak? It's just that people were now the animal whose movements was being controlled, right?

The talk of rations was the straw that broke the camel's back for most of the country. 

The army arrived. 

Curfews and rolling blackouts during the night swept through the country, enforced good behaviour doled out by men in camo uniforms with guns strapped to their thighs – a sight that was so foreign to most who couldn’t remember a time when guns were carried by law enforcement in the streets. 

A calming fear spread throughout, thousands of students queuing for days on end to try and get a spot on one of the passenger carrying army convoys so they could get home to family – scared teenagers bartering with everything they had to get home to their mothers before all routes were finally closed for the foreseeable future.

The final broadcast was looped, it played for five days on every channel and was only ten minutes in length. Get to your nearest base, take as much food, clothes and blankets as possible but nothing else. 

Bases – set up around the country, housing thousands at a time. Trott and Ross counted themselves lucky, their closest base was the university. For weeks, every available able bodied person was asked to report to the main building for orders. They were put to work, building a barricade that was essentially a twelve foot wall around the few square miles that the campus covered.

They were lucky, or so they were told. The two men had their space already, their shared flat was left for them to stay living in and the biggest issue they faced on a daily basis was boredom. At first Trott had carried on with his school work, but after a week or so it was obvious that classes wouldn’t be resuming any time soon and so he stopped. Ross had never really started, instead spending his days slowly getting through all the books that Trott had recommended he read over the last few years, spending more time in fantasy worlds than deal with the one he was thrust into now. 

Trott spent the daylight hours out, Ross didn’t know where he went or what he did but just let him be. Each night he would shuffle through the front door and throw himself onto the sofa with a sour look on his face until Ross would coax something out of him, a small titbit of information before Trott would tell him he didn’t want to talk about it and change the subject. 

**********

Ross looked up from his book as the front door to the flat closed gently, Trott strode into the room with a beaming smile on his face. 

"What happened?" Ross asked, closing the book and throwing it to the coffee table. 

Trott reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope, with deft fingers he pulled out a wad of paper and opened it, kicking off his shoes and throwing himself into the seat next to Ross. "Got a letter from Katie." 

From the looks of the paper, Trott had got the letter at least a few hours previously and had read it numerous times, his eyes darted over the page rapidly. "What's she say?" Ross queried, leaning closer so he could try and read some of it over the other man's shoulder. 

"She says she is fine and asked how we were and said she is going to stay put in the Glasgow base until this blows over and that I should stop trying to waste my money and stuff by trying to get transport up to her." 

Ross nodded as Trott spoke. Trott had been trying in vain for weeks to get transport up to Katie but none of it had panned out. He even tried to buy part passage to the Midlands with the hope he would find someone more willing to make the journey up to Scotland in another base but he was shot down by everyone he approached, told to be patient like he was a child who didn’t want to wait until after dinner to eat his dessert. "She have any news about what the fuck is going on out here?" Ross asked gesturing towards the window with his thumb. 

Trott shook his head. "Just the same shit we get told here, but I did hear something whilst I was walking by the union." Trott said, laying the letter across his lap and looking at Ross. "The Z word is being thrown around." 

Ross rolled his eyes. "Seriously?" 

Trott shrugged. "Heard some of the army guys talking about the infected people out there, said they had started attacking people." 

"Attacking people doesn’t mean fucking zombies Trott." 

Trott raised an eyebrow. "No, but the fact that they have started with the cannibalism might." 

Ross screwed his face up in disgust. "They were just having you on mate, you're too gullible." 

Trott shook his head. "When I said I heard them talking, I didn’t mean in the street or whatever. They were arguing with their Sergeant about what they had seen when they went into the city to get supplies." 

"What did he say?" 

Trott sat back. "That's the thing, he didn’t contradict them – told them that they needed to keep it to themselves and report to some other guy in another squad that would explain everything to them." 

Ross scratched at the stubble on his chin that he hadn't bothered shaving off in days. "You sound like one of those conspiracy nuts in the square."

Trott shot him a dark look. "Fine, don’t believe me. But don’t come crying to me when you wake up with a zombie gnawing on your dick." 

**********

The next four months went by in a crawl, Ross couldn’t decide what was more frustrating – the lack of things to do or the contradictory information they were being given by those in charge at the base. 

Reassurances that everything would be fine, don’t panic – help out where you can. Never go outside the wall – like that was a possibility, guards posted twenty four hours a day at the gate and on the roofs of tall buildings around the perimeter to make sure no one tried to leave or that nothing got in. 

The two friends spent so much time talking, reminiscing about better times. Trott talked about Katie, and Ross couldn’t bring himself to stop him, Trott missed her so much and it broke Ross’ heart to see the worry etched into his friends features every day until he could confirm that the Glasgow base had checked in and everything up there was fine. 

Ross supposed he should have been more concerned about his own family but they were beyond reach and he had barely spoken to them since coming to uni. They had kicked up such a fuss when he came out at the tender age of sixteen that he had taken the first opportunity to leave the family home and had returned as little as possible from then on. 

The talk through the base of what was actually waiting for them outside the walls was getting more and more narrow. People swearing that they heard from one source of another that the virus had turned the people into the nightmarish creatures that attacked without provocation and ate the flesh of other humans. They didn’t have another word for it really, zombie was the only way of describing the shambling walk and dead eyes that they infected took on. 

Most had seen at least one now, curiosity getting the better of people as they climbed onto roofs and into high rises to use binoculars and telescopes to scan the streets over the wall. 

Ross had run to the bathroom, heaving against the sight of a group of them attacking one of the army personnel when he and Trott finally decided to see for themselves what was being discussed in hushed tones around the base. They were too far to hear the screams but just the look of the man screaming as he was literally ripped apart and feasted on was enough to finally settle the matter to both men.

Still they both refused to use the Z word, instead opting for the slightly less cliché ‘infected’ or simply ‘them’ or ‘they’ when referring to the monstrosities roaming on the other side of the wall. 

The word spread through the communications with the bases and it seemed to calm the atmosphere that had been rising, people were sick of being lied to and protected with denials and silence but now the secret was out and people regretted their persistence for answers – ignorance really was bliss it seemed. 

November was when the weather turned and so did the news from the outside. The infected were running out of food it seemed, no longer able to find any uninfected to hunt down for their meals they turned on each other – apparently it didn’t matter that they were infected – this wasn’t a movie or a book, any flesh would suffice in sating their hungers and keep them alive, searching for more. 

They lost Europe. Communication from across the channel to France ceased, no Spanish or German making it though either.

The silence of Southern Europe worried the guys in charge at the base and in response they spoke more to other bases, sending convoys back and forth that came back with less and less people each time. 

It was, quite horribly, Christmas eve when the international radio went silent for the last time. Northern Europe and any other communications from the world outside of the UK ceased and the higher ups decided that they needed more people in the central base in London to help out, and so the base emptied of half of the army presence and a couple of months full of arguing and elections followed to establish a new hierarchy that would decide the future of everyone within the wall. 

Scouting parties were trialled and abandoned – too many never returning. It was better to ration what they had than risk more lives outside the wall. 

They made it through the winter, icy mornings giving way now to the warmth of spring and longer hours of daylight that perked the people up a little, warmth returning to the streets and flowers budding in their beds lining the spaces around the university and bringing colour back into the world. 

A new optimistic outlook prevailed where sightings of the infected were lessened and talk was beginning to turn to outlasting the epidemic, waiting for the infected to die off once their food supply dwindled to nothing. 

Six months to a year was the projected time frame that the experts in London gave it, six to twelve months to plan their reintegration back into the country. Security was tightened further – no one was to be let out of any base for any reason, if they wanted to starve the infected then they needed to stop supplying them with their own people and let them take each other out instead. 

It was the first week of March when the fragile framework that Trott had managed to build around his life was shattered to a million shards of sharp splinters. 

Some of the bases had stopped checking in. 

Glasgow was one of them.


	2. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say a huge thank you to all my reviewers on here and Tumblr - its all your fault i wrote another chapter already! 
> 
> Special shout out to Nisha - you little diamond!

Ross arrived at the union building at around seven am, he was slowly becoming used to the earlier mornings that the black outs required if you actually wanted to be able to do anything during daylight hours.

Three times a day the other bases would check in, a long drawn out register taken to ensure all was well across the country and also to raise any issues that individual bases were having. Upon the conclusion of the roll call, a soldier would take the piece of paper with the names of all the bases on it and tick those that had checked in. The list was then posted to a board for anyone to check – this is what Ross was here for. Check the Swindon base, check the Bath base and finally check the Glasgow base. 

Ross stepped through the large glass doors and made his way to the queue at the back of the room. He and Trott had come up with a routine for coming to stand in the queue, Ross took the morning, they would both usually show up for the midday update and then Trott would take the evening update. 

It wasn’t much, but it helped ease Trott’s mind and Ross was glad of having something to do every day, it forced him out of the flat and sometimes he needed that push to be bothered getting out of bed in the morning. 

He was a little later than usual, having taken the time to eat something before leaving that morning and so the crowd wasn’t as thick with people as he shuffled forward a foot at a time in the line.

He only had to wait five minutes before he could step up to the board and flick his eyes down the list. It was so much of a routine that his body had automatically half turned to walk away when he registered what he was seeing. 

Ross brought a hand up, using his index finger to trace the line from the name to the blank tick box, making sure he had really seen what he had thought. His heart skipped a beat and then kicked back in double speed.

Glasgow’s check box was blank. 

Ross turned abruptly and scanned his eyes over the people in the room, striding over as soon as he saw someone in camo. He didn’t bother with pleasantries as he approached. “Why is the Glasgow box blank? Did they miss the check in or is it a mistake?”

The man was young, probably younger than Ross by the looks of his patchy stubble and wide eyes. “They didn’t check in.” He confirmed, looking nervous at the twisted look Ross gave him in return. 

“I need to speak to whoever was on the call this morning.” Ross said. 

The man shook his head. “Patterson is off duty, not to be disturbed.” 

Ross narrowed his eyes further. “Do I look like I give a fuck?” Ross spat. “Either tell me where Patterson is or take me to his superior, now.” 

The man nodded quickly and led the way further into the building. 

*********

Ross climbed the stairs to their flat quickly, taking the steps two at a time and arriving at the door slightly out of breath and flushed. 

He paused a second, taking a few deep breaths and trying to calm his racing heart before opening the door. 

Ross bit his lip as he spotted Trott sitting at the kitchen table with a pen in his hand and a notebook in front of him. Clearing his throat, he got the other man’s attention and felt like his stomach had dropped out of his body as he met Trott’s deep brown eyes. 

Trott furrowed his brow at the look on the other man’s face but didn’t speak. 

Ross wet his lips and walked towards the table, sitting down in a chair opposite his friend. “Glasgow didn’t check in this morning.” Ross said, eyes darting over Trott’s face to gauge his reaction. 

Trott’s face was blank. “Are you sure they didn’t make a mistake?” 

Ross nodded gently. “I spoke to the Sargent and he confirmed that they hadn’t checked in or responded to calls being made to them after that. The northern bases are still trying to contact them now.”

Trott set his pen down a little too gently for Ross’ liking, pushed his chair away from the table and stood, striding off towards his room. 

Ross followed after a short moment and found the other man with a rucksack on his bed, pulling handfuls of clothes out of his drawers. “Trott?” Ross questioned. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

The shorter man didn’t pause in his task, flicking his eyes to Ross for a split second as he pushed more clothes into the bad. “Packing.” He answered, voice void of any emotions. 

Ross leant against the door frame and crossed his arms. “Don’t be a fucking idiot.” 

Trott raised an eyebrow and flung open the doors to his wardrobe, pulling his waterproof jacket out and throwing it to the bed, ignoring the other man. 

Ross pushed off from the doorframe with his shoulder and stepped into the room. “Trott, it’s just one check in.” He protested, even though his own stomach was churning with worry about Katie. 

Trott dropped to his knees and reached under the bed, pulling out a large plastic box. “That’s what they said about Norwich.” Trott replied, voice still even and flat. 

Ross didn’t really have an answer to that. The base in Norfolk had lost contact for two days before a team from the nearby Thetford base had been deployed to investigate. Ross and Trott had not seen the report, not really wanting to – but they had heard it was horrible. The whole place had been overrun, somehow the infected had got inside and the place was ruined. Half of the base burned to the ground in what was hypothesised as a last ditch effort to kill anything left inside. 

“You can’t jump to conclusions, mate. At least wait to see if they check in tonight.” Ross tried, hoping that in the time between now and then he would be able to come up with more compelling reasons to get Trott to stay and not go rushing off and getting himself killed. 

Trott emptied the box onto the floor and rifled through, putting various objects onto the bed and leaving others on the floor. With a sigh, Trott pulled himself to his feet. “Have they put a time on when they’re going to have another base go and check on them?” 

Ross didn’t look at his friend as he replied. “They’re not sure if they will send any one.” 

All calm left the shorter man as he exploded into a shout. “What?!” 

Ross’ voice dropped in volume but Trott caught every word. “They said they might not go and check because if it has been overrun then they would just be supplying the infected with more food.” 

Ross’ eyes roamed over his friends face, Trott’s jaw was clenched and his nostrils were flaring in barely contained anger. “If they haven’t checked in at tonight’s call then I’m leaving in the morning.” 

Ross scrubbed at his face for a moment. “Getting yourself killed out there isn’t going to help her, Chris.” 

“Staying here and doing nothing is going to kill me too.” He answered immediately. 

Ross sighed. “I know.” 

*********

How they made it through the rest of the day, neither man knew. They both went to the midday check in, in silence. Returning without comment when it was shown that Glasgow was still off the grid. 

Ross toyed with the idea of getting Trott to try and eat something but the bubbling in his own stomach put him off bothering and instead he just sat with the other man who starred down at a blank page in his notebook for the afternoon. 

It was just getting dark when they left the flat together, walking with quickened steps towards the union. Ross had to restrain himself from running and assumed Trott was doing the same at his side, his fists clenching and unclenching in a steady rhythm. 

Their journey had been for naught, still no news from the base and a firm no from the headquarters in London on any rescue or recon mission being sent. 

Trott seethed at Ross’ side as he jogged back to the flat, his shorter legs apparently not making a slight bit of difference in his speed compared to Ross’. He slammed open the front door and made a beeline for his bedroom. 

“Trott?” Ross pleaded, his breathing uneven from their hurried pace. “Chris, please mate. Talk to me.” 

Trott rubbed a hand over his face before flicking his hair out of his eye. “I waited like you said, I’m done waiting now.” 

“You can’t go out there half fucking cocked without a plan.” Ross protested. 

“I have a plan.” He answered. Ross raised an eyebrow, so he continued. “It’s about nine hundred miles to Glasgow and I have my bike, average cycling speed is around nine or ten miles an hour which means if I cycle ten hours a day and rest during the night then I can be up there in nine or ten days.” He supplied as he hefted his bag off the bed and walked towards the kitchen. 

Ross trailed behind him. “And where the hell are you going to sleep, Trott?” 

Trott shrugged and threw the bag to the table, walking into the kitchen and throwing cupboards open to examine their contents. “Houses along the way, other bases maybe.” 

Trott began taking tins of food from the cupboard, balancing them two high he went back to the table and placed them down before returning for more. Ross strode into the kitchen and stood in front of the cupboard. Trott walked right up to him and have him a stern look. “I’m not moving.” Ross challenged. 

Trott let out an annoyed sound through his nose and sidestepped the other man, opening the next cupboard instead and moving aside cups and sandwich boxes to get at the back of the cupboard. “I can’t stay here Ross, we already agreed on that.” 

Ross watched as Trott pulled out his old camping mess tin that he had brought the last time he had gone to a festival, along with a metal cup and placed them on the table too. 

Ross’ mind was whirling, Trott was one of only a couple of people that he actually cared about in his life and having him leave would be torture. It also didn’t help that the other person he called a true friend in his life was Katie. “We should have gone with her.” Ross muttered to himself but Trott heard and nodded his agreement. 

They had met Katie on their first day at uni, barely an hour after meeting each other in their halls. It hadn’t taken long for the three to become friends and then for Trott and Katie to become an item.

When the situation with the outbreak had first happened she had been up in Scotland visiting family for Easter break, her family and even Trott and Ross had convinced her to stay up there until the situation blew over and she could come back safely. 

Opening the mess tin, Trott checked his metal spork, knife and tin opener were inside before closing the lid again and pushing the objects into his bag, sandwiched between clothes.

Ross sank into a chair as Trott continued to pack, fishing some empty plastic bottles out of the recycling box in the corner and filling them with water. “Trott?” 

Trott closed the lid on the last bottle and put it on the table next to his bag before turning to Ross in question. 

Ross wet his lips. “You have another one of those mess tin’s right?” 

Trott nodded, confusion written on his face. “I did think about taking a spare but the less weight I carry, the faster I can go.” 

Ross stood from his chair and made his way towards his own bedroom as he answered, calling over his shoulder. “It’s not for you, you twat. It’s for me.”


	3. The road to Abingdon

It was still dark when the two friends made their way across the base, they had spent the rest of their evening planning and packing – reasoning that slipping out of one of the usually unattended gates under the cover of darkness was probably their best bet in being able to get outside now that travelling outside was forbidden. 

Trott took the lead as they wound through the alleys between the buildings rather than walk down any of the more open streets, within minutes they were at the wall. 

Trying to be a quiet as possible, the two men crept around following the wall to find the door they knew was around there somewhere. 

The large deadbolt wouldn’t move, Trott’s fingers ached with the effort of trying to pull it open until Ross shoved his shoulder against the door and slid the bolt open with ease. Trott met his eye as Ross pulled the door open slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. “Go.” Ross whispered, turning to grab his bike from where it had been leaning against the wall. 

Trott didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing the handlebars of his own BMX, he walked through to the outside world for the first time in almost six months. 

Ross pulled the door closed behind them and mounted his bike, motioning for Trott to do the same. They rode fast and quiet, weaving between buildings as quickly as possible to avoid being spotted by any of the soldiers patrolling the wall or the lookouts stations in the taller buildings. 

The ride to Beacon Hill was quiet, only the sounds of their tyres, their packs shifting and their increasingly heavy breathing. At first Trott had been obviously twitchy, looking around constantly to make sure they weren’t being followed and that there were no infected nearby. After half an hour, he seemed to relax a bit but they stayed silent, neither was sure they would have been able to manage a conversation anyway – living on a diet of take out and doing nothing but study and game for years had not leant to their fitness in any positive way. 

The landscape changed, built up areas giving way to more sparsely separated buildings, tiny business parks and company headquarters spaced between farms and fields, surrounded by high hedges that offered a strange sense of safety to the two men, reasoning that if they couldn’t see anything but the road then nothing could see them either. 

A few hours in, Trott finally gave into the burning pain in his legs and slowed, turning his head to speak to Ross for the first time since they left the flat that morning. “Let’s have a break before we skirt around Alresford.” He said turning the bike into an abandoned car park that came up on their right. 

Ross didn’t answer verbally, instead just following Trott towards the building where the shorter man dismounted and leant his bike up against the wall. 

Ross wiped at his brow with the back of his arm, his face hot and sweaty from the ride as Trott stumbled towards the double doors on the side of the building. Ross hefted his pack further up his shoulders and joined his friend who was cupping his hand around his face pressed to the glass of the door to try and see inside. 

“Looks empty.” He commented, gesturing for Ross to take a look himself. It was dark inside but it did look empty, he tried the doors but they were locked. 

Trott wandered off around the small carpark, kicking at the ground as Ross rounded the corner to look for another entrance. 

The sound of smashing glass had the tall man running back around to find Trott kicking aside glass shards from the panel at the bottom of the door. “Stealthy.” Ross critiqued as Trott bent to enter the building, Ross sighed and glanced around before entering behind his friend. 

“Posh golf club.” Trott said, poking his head into one of the large function rooms. “Should have a bar, you fancy some coke?” 

Ross moaned at the suggestion. “Do you know how long it’s been since we had a fizzy drink?” 

Trott smiled at him. “Must be at least four or five months now.” 

The two men lounged on comfortable leather chairs as they ate scavenged food from the club, reasoning that breaking into the rations they had brought with them could wait until they didn’t have another option, cold beans and tinned meats not really appealing to their stomachs for the time being. 

Ross eased the cap off his third bottle of coke and took a long pull. 

“We aren’t stopping every ten minutes for you to piss.” Trott warned, failing the hide the smile on his face and downing the rest of his second bottle. 

Ross flipped him the bird and took another swig, making an exaggerated ‘ahhhh’ noise before burping loudly. “We should take a bottle of something with us.” 

Trott snorted at him. “I realise that we have had it easy so far mate, and I hope to any god that will listen that it stays like this all the way to Glasgow, but I don’t think we should be tempting fate by getting pissed.” 

Ross rolled his eyes. “In case one of us falls off our bike or something, disinfectant isn’t it?” He queried, thinking back to all the TV shows and films he had watched over the years where the protagonists used vodka to clean wounds then stitched them up with cotton and made bandages out of torn bits of clothes. 

Trott nodded. It was one thing they hadn’t really been able to get, any drugs or medical supplies had been confiscated and taken to a central pool in the base months before. “There should be first aid kits around somewhere.” Trott observed. “In the kitchen or office or something.” 

********** 

Ross’ legs had gone stiff by the time they rose to loot any medical supplies and carry on riding north, he strode towards the office to try and work his muscles back to warmth. Trott didn’t seem to be faring any better if the wince on his face was any indication. 

They met outside, their packs heavier than when they arrived. “You want me to take the front?” Ross asked as he threw his leg over the frame of the bike and sat down on the seat, both feet still planted firmly on the ground. 

Trott shook his head. “The paths should be wide enough for us to go side by side.” 

They once again rode in silence, slower than they had before by some unspoken agreement that Ross’ legs were glad of. 

A village came into view ahead of them, they slowed and Ross took the lead. 

Ross threw his arm out to the side suddenly, Trott had to slam his feet down on the pavement to stop before he would have collided with the extended appendage. Ross met his eye and brought a finger to his lips and dismounted, picking his bike up by the frame and taking a few steps to the right to hug the wall of a house. 

Trott followed suit, trusting Ross knew what he was doing but still threw him a questioning look once he was stood next to his against the wall. 

Ross bent at the waist to put his mouth next to Trott’s ear, his voice low but not quite a whisper when he spoke. “There’s two of them just around the corner, maybe twenty feet or so away.” 

Trott grit his teeth and Ross was surprised at the anger on his friends face. “What do you think we should do? Double back and try another street?” 

“We can do that, or try and sneak around or we could just get on the bikes and peddle as fast as possible and hope we don’t bump into any further in.” 

Ross caught the movement of Trott clenching and unclenching his fists out of the corner of his vision. “I knew we should have gone further around this fucking shit hole.” The shorter man hissed, mostly to himself. 

“If we try and skirt everything we won’t ever get up to Katie.” Ross replied. “We both agreed this was the best way to go.” He said, trying to get his friend to stop blaming himself for their misfortune. 

Trott sighed gently. “It’s two miles or so through the houses, then we hit the 339 where we can get up some speed and head through the countryside again. We could try to sneak passed and if it doesn’t work just-“ 

“-Peddle our arses off until we outrun them.” Ross finished. 

“And hope we don’t run into any more before we make it out of here.” 

Ross gripped the handles of his bike and pulled it away from the wall. “We should have brought weapons.” 

“This isn’t fucking Sean of the Dead, mate. They would have just slowed us down anyway.” Trott insisted, poking his head around the corner for a second before pulling it back. “They’ve moved further away, we need to move quickly.” 

Ross nodded and stretched his leg over the frame of the bike. Trott counted down quietly and they both shot out of cover, legs a blur as they stood to peddle as fast as they could. They raced through streets seemingly having had made it passed the two infected without trouble before they ran into another, bigger group. Ross skidded down a street to their left, Trott hot on his heels as the guttural grunts and groans from the infected faded – miles being put between them by the bikes. 

The speed and distance became too much for Ross who started to lag behind as they hit the Downs. Trott slowed for him, setting a less frantic pace through the country paths and speeding up whenever they skirted passed villages and small towns, trying to attract as little attention as possible. 

Ross begged off more riding as they neared Abingdon. “I can’t go through another town Trott.” He said, panting for breath. “And I don’t think you can either.” He said eyeing the other man’s red cheeks, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. 

Trott nodded. “Fine. We have to move fast tomorrow and the sun will be down in a couple of hours anyway.” He agreed, shrugging his backpack off with a groan of pleasure at the loss of weight on his shoulders. 

Ross lay his bike down on the grass verge at the edge of the rode and slipped his own pack off, practically collapsing onto the grass and stretching his arms above him, shoulders popping. 

Trott sank to the floor beside him, map in hand and pen between his teeth to mark their route. “If we go through Sutton Courtney there’s a couple of farms just after it that might be a good place to spend the night, out of the towns and we won’t have to sleep outside.” 

“How far is it?” Ross asked, his arm flung over his eyes. 

“Two miles, maybe three.” Trott answered, pulling a bottle out of his bag and taking a long swig of water before throwing the bottle to land beside Ross. 

Ross groaned. “They better have beds.” He mumbled, dragging his arm off his face and pushing himself up with his hands into a sitting position and reaching for the bottle. “Come on then, the quicker we get there, the quicker we can sleep.” He encouraged before taking a few mouthfuls of water and shoving the half empty bottle into a pocket at the side of his bag. 

Trott pushed the map and pen back into his pack and struggled to his feet, his lower back complaining as he shrugged the weighty bag back onto his back. 

The rest of the ride only took twenty minutes. The farm’s sign came into view as they rounded the corner but they couldn’t see any of the buildings from the road and so followed the worn dirt track onto the property to the farm house. 

The building looked old, one of those large stone wall buildings with a thatched roof. It looked secure and more importantly, they hadn’t seen or heard any infected for miles. 

The front door way locked but Ross managed to find a way in through the old coal cellar hatch. It was nice inside, seemed to be untouched and pristine and not like the houses they had passed in the towns and villages that had doors hanging off and had clearly been looted. 

They ate a quick dinner in the fading light and made their way upstairs. "Which room do you want?" Ross asked, gesturing to the open doors on the landing. 

Trott looked between the door for a moment. "Is separating to sleep a good idea? What if-" 

"You were the one saying this wasn’t a horror movie, mate." Ross said, raising an eyebrow at him before entering a room and gesturing for Trott to follow. 

Trott shuffled into the room and Ross shut the door, placing his heavy pack in front of it, Trott put his down next to it. Ross kicked his shoes off as Trott looked around the large master bedroom. With quick movements, the dark haired man stripped off his jeans, socks and t shirt and pulled a corner of the duvet up to collapse onto the soft bed with a contented groan. 

Trott pulled the curtains closed to plunge the room into further darkness, with a quick glance towards Ross who was facing away from him, he stripped himself of most of this clothes and slid into the bed beside his friend and lay on his back. 

"Ross?" Trott whispered, turning his head to the side so he could just about see the outline of Ross' head. 

"Hmm?" Ross questioned back, sounding half asleep already. 

"Thank you." 

Ross hummed back, but Trott wasn’t sure if Ross had even understood what he had said to him, so he turned his body away and closed his eyes.


	4. Alex

The world had been fucked long before the illness swept across it, or at least that was Alex’s opinion. It was an opinion born of frustration and an ‘otherness’ he had felt throughout his twenty-odd years of existence and it was probably a large contributing factor as to how he was still alive. 

Self-reliance was something drummed into him at a young age, look after yourself and try not to concern yourself with the plights of others. That’s not to say he was un-empathetic, if anything he was even more so – it just meant he could more easily push those emotions aside and allow himself to think more practically, his own survival taking precedence. 

Loneliness and solitude were nothing new to him, so after the incident at the base and the ensuing horrific journey, he was still standing. 

The guilt was the worst, a clawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and back of his head that screamed at him that he should have done more, should have risked more to save them. 

What he calculated to be Christmas came and went in solitude, daylight spent winding through streets to find the next house, the next meal, the next bed. 

Alex wasn’t so much lost as he didn’t care where he was, the towns and villages all looked the same anyway – half ransacked and littered with infected every couple of miles. 

It was reckless, really. Moving so much, basically inviting attacks but he didn’t care. Couldn’t bring himself to be overly concerned with the thought that he might not make it out of a fight, too caught up in the rush of surviving whenever he had a close call – the only real emotion he could feel anymore. 

The others had been practically obsessed with trying to figure out exactly what the infected were, if they could still feel or if the original person was still in there somewhere. Alex was pretty certain that wasn’t the case, no recognition or really any sign of humanity had passed his lecturers face when she had attacked him or when he had turned tail and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. 

It was best to look at them as something else, not people. If they were people then what Alex had, had to resort to on numerous occasions would be called murder, he didn’t have the capacity to deal with that – and so they were just monsters, nightmares brought into the real world to kill and maim and eat their way through those still left alive. 

*********

The feeling that he was being followed prickled along the back of his neck. He had been having the same feeling for a couple of days and it was starting to concern him. There was nothing there – no infected for miles, he had made sure of that before setting up in some large four bedroom house that had somehow managed to escape being looted before now. 

He roamed farther than usual, the days had started to get longer so he had ventured towards a large shopping park a few miles from the house, hoping to find some new clothes to replace those in his bag at the house that were falling apart at the seams. 

The whole area had been obviously looted, broken glass strewn across entrances from the broken windows and door, almost empty racks of clothes and shelves pulled down and left haphazardly strewn against floors, tills busted open. 

Looters were stupid, in Alex’s experience. They were only concerned with what they could see but Alex knew better. Warehouses we’re usually left untouched, the masses would see the shop ruined and assume that there was nothing in there for them to find but he supposed that they didn’t have the time he did. Time to poke around in the back, to break into vending machines in staff rooms for luxuries like chocolate and cans of drinks or to browse through the racks of hundreds of items in the warehouse. 

Alex navigated over fallen racks and around half collapsed shelving units, looking along the walls as he went to try and find the ever present ‘staff only’ sign. 

A smile spread across his face as he opened the double doors to find a two story room with racks and racks of clothes, an amused huff of breath that almost became a giggle escaping past his parted lips. 

With what he would later probably describe as reckless abandon, Alex strode into the room and pulled out his torch, eyes wide as noted all the different items he could walk away with, trying to calculate how much he could realistically carry with him. 

He was crouched down, shoving clothes into a large suitcase he had found the next aisle over when he heard the first sound, a clicking of claws against wood. 

Alex zipped up the suitcase and stood, shining his torch towards the entrance to the warehouse. Bright green light reflected back at him, two eyes that only glanced at him for a second before turning to the door again and letting out a low rumbling growl. 

He stood listening for a moment and shone the torch over the animal. It was a dog, about the size of a German shepherd with pointed ears like a fox. Its body was sleek and black but the fur on the back of its neck stood on end as it continued to growl at something that Alex couldn’t see. He panned the torch down and noted the uneven white socks on each of the dog’s feet and the white tip to its tail that was held mostly still, sticking up away from its body – the end twitching slightly. 

It was only a moment before he heard it, the shuffling beyond the door where the dog was standing. Alex frantically searched the walls for another exit but came up blank. He had ventured upstairs in the warehouse and there only seemed to be one set of stairs to get back downstairs to be able to escape and that was through the door that the infected were about to emerge from. 

Alex swore quietly to himself, casting around for anything he could use for a weapon and finding nothing but more racks of clothes. Pushing the suitcase under a rack with his foot he plunged his arm into a mess of clothes to find the long piece of hooked metal that he had been using to get clothes off the top racks as the dog backed up, still growling at the infected who ambled through the door and spotted Alex almost immediately. 

The dog ran over to him, standing in front and barking as the infected broke into a stumbling jog. Three of them, more than Alex was comfortable taking on alone. 

He backed up, moving to the end of the aisle as they approached. The dog didn’t move, standing its ground as they got closer and letting out booming barks that the infected ignored in favour of focusing solely on Alex. 

“Fuck- Dog, move!” He shouted, as the infected came into swiping range of the animal. “Come here, you twat!” Alex tried again in a more gentle voice, smacking at his thigh. 

The dog backed up more, moving slowly towards him and snapping at the infected as they tried to lurch past. A yelp sounded as the dog took a kick to the side by one of the infected. “Fuck-“ Alex spat as he looked quickly between the threat and the empty aisle to his left. He could run for it, loop around the warehouse, get down the stairs and out of the area back to the house but he didn’t want to lose the suitcase and the treasures he had managed to find. 

He ran out of time, one of the infected swiping at the dog and sending it sideways into one of the racks, with nothing now between them and their prey they sped up – taking a run at him. 

Alex gripped the pole with both hands and stepped into the swing, managing to hit one of them square on the temple and sending two of them to the ground, the first falling against the second. The third took a swipe at him but Alex managed to duck under it, dancing backwards around the corner to stay out of reach. 

He hit out, hearing metal connect with flesh, the unmistakable and unfortunately familiar sounds of bones breaking against the pole as he attacked with furious two handed blows. Kicking out, he pushed the infected off balance and it stumbled into a shelf, struggling to rise again with its throat pressed against a horizontal piece of wood, one of its arms limp at its side from the damage that Alex had managed to inflict. With a sickening crunch, Alex slammed his booted foot down on the back of the infected man’s neck breaking the connection between the brain and the rest of the body. 

Alex pushed his hair out of his face with a shaking hand and crept back towards the corner, the battered piece of metal still clutched in one fist. He held it aloft, ready to bring down on one of the other infected but found the one he had earlier hit on the head was still slumped on the floor, its throat slashed open and unmoving. The second was not in sight and neither was the dog. 

He dropped the pole and rushed towards where he had pushed the suitcase, pulling it out from the rack and rushing for the door. With hurried movements, he thundered down the stairs and extended the handle to wheel the case behind him as he navigated through the ground floor of the warehouse and towards the nearest exit. 

He shoved his weight against the door as he pushed the bar down and burst out into the weak sunlight and rushed around the building, trying to put as much distance between himself and the shop as possible. 

He screamed as he rounded the corner and straight into a couple of infected. It was almost impossible to really call them anything like people any more, both had deep gashes all over their faces, obscuring them and looking at their hands it wasn’t hard to figure out what exactly had done the damage. He had seen it enough times, the infected turning on each other when they couldn’t find any other food. Alex could never decide if it made it better or worse when coming into contact with them. On the one hand, they were usually weaker or more damaged because of the lack of food, but with their hunger so prevalent they fought harder and were just that bit more bite-y, trying to take chunks out of you even before you were downed. 

The impact sent Alex sprawling backwards, tripping over the suitcase and to the hard concrete floor, head connecting with a sharp ‘thunk’ that blurred his vision for a moment. 

He tried to push himself backwards, heels slipping against the cold floor as his hands scraped along, grazes opening up on his palms. 

One of the infected hissed, and reached down. Alex kicked out and sent it stumbling to the side but it was not deterred. The second tried the same tactic and received a kick to the knee that would have made Alex wince from the sound of crunching cartilage if he could have heard it past the pounding of his own heart in his head. 

The first lunged at him as he kicked the second away, too fast for him to redirect his defence and stop them. He screamed, a panicked sound that held no words but said so much. With both hands, he managed to hold the things head at bay by wrapping his hands around its throat but its hands were still free and were doing enough damage to his outstretched arms. 

He knew he was done for before the second grabbed his leg, he couldn’t even fight the one off – let alone two. This was it. He had survived this long and now he was going to die. All because he wanted to wear something other than the three maroon shirts that he had pilfered months ago.


	5. Hairy Hero

This wasn’t the first time he had been a hairs breadth from death. 

It was never like the stories though, he hadn’t ever seen his life flash before his eyes or felt anything but overwhelming terror before, and this time was no different. There was no white light or chorus singing, just the screams ripping from his lungs as he tried to keep the monster on top of him at bay as his feet kicked at the other. 

Later, he would wonder about it. About why he kept on surviving, what gave him the right to keep on living when so many others had not? 

The infected sat atop him, clawing at him with sharp nails and bared teeth was ripped from his grasp by some unknown force. Alex didn’t miss his opportunity, kicking out harder and with more accuracy to get the other infected man to release his ankle. He scooted backwards, managing to find purchase on the concrete of the carpark. 

With reflexes born of necessity he rolled to his knees and stood, casting around for a weapon as the infected man struggled to his feet. 

The whole area was pretty bare, the only thing he could conceivably use would need him to break something and he wasn’t sure he had the time but found he had no other choice. He ran to the edge of the adjacent building where a few pallets were stacked, throwing a look over his shoulder he pulled at one until it clattered to the floor and started stamping at it with one booted foot. 

The wood splintered, much too short to use as he had wanted. He tried again, frantically slamming the heel of his foot against the thick wood to get it to break in the right place. 

He was backed against a wall, one more kick and he might be able to free a large plank to use as a rudimentary club but he faltered as a growl sounded behind the infected man. 

The man was knocked to the ground, the same dog that had helped him in the warehouse had its jaws clamped down on the infected man’s arm and was shaking it, pulling him back and away from Alex, half a foot at a time. 

“You beautiful little twat!” Alex praised, keeping his eyes on the two in front of him as he bent down and armed himself with the large piece of wood he had been able to dislodge. “Good dog!” He said, walking closer and raising the plank about his head with both arms. 

“Drop it.” Alex tried, he didn’t want to risk hitting the dog if he could help it. 

The animal didn’t listen to him, instead shaking more vigorously at the limb in its mouth. Alex huffed. “Let it go!” Still nothing happened. “Leave it, you twat!” 

As soon as the dog let go of the infected man’s arm, Alex swung the wood down to connect with his head with a hollow ‘thunk’. The infected man let out a pained roar and swiped for the dog. 

You could never really tell how many times you needed to hit the infected, sometimes a single blow was enough, other times you would have to bang at their skulls for more than a minute before they finally fell still and silent. 

Sweat was running down his face and staining his t shirt a darker shade in a line down his back by the time he had finished. He bent down to catch his breath and then moved quickly to reclaim the suitcase and flee from the retail park, the dog following at a distance. 

The walk back seemed quicker than on the way there, but he attributed that to the adrenaline still coursing through him and his hurried pace. 

It was just after noon when he arrived back at the house. With shaking hands he tried to unlock the door with the key he had found in one of the cupboards after breaking in through one unlocked windows the day he had arrived, metal scraping against metal as he tried to line it up.

The overgrown bushes surrounding the garden offered a small sense of safety as he berated himself with curses. “Come on, stop being a fucking prick and open the fucking door.” 

He knew the dog had been following him but still had to contain a panicked shout as he opened the door and the animal darted past him and into the house. 

“For fucks sake, you twat!” He scolded as he made his way inside, staring at the animal. “Get the fuck out!” He said, voice low as he pointed to the open door. 

The dog regarded him for a second before lowering its behind to the floor. 

“No, not sit.” Alex grunted. “Out.” He tried again, voice stronger. 

The dog didn’t move its position except to twitch the end of its tail in a gentle wag. 

“I don’t have any dog food and if you stay with me you’ll end up dead like everyone else.” He insisted. “Get outside, you twat.” 

The dog rose, its tail swishing from side to side slowly, tongue lolling from its open mouth. “Please.” Alex begged, gesturing to the door again and imploring it with his eyes.

The dog moved forwards, the dense fur along its neck and along its back rising. The animal’s top lip rising, exposing sharp white teeth as it rumbled a low growl from the back of its throat. 

Alex was frozen. Could dogs get infected? It must have broken skin on the last infected it had rescued him from and he was pretty sure it had been the cause of the gory scene in the warehouse with the infected that barely had any face or neck left. 

He backed towards the door, getting ready to jump out and slam it to lock the dog inside when the animal started to bark. 

Alex turned on the ball of his foot as he followed the dog’s eye line and spotted a woman at the end of the short path to the door, clearly an infected. She hissed and lunged forwards. 

He slammed the door, pushing the bolts across and whimpering slightly as the door shook with the force of the infected woman flinging herself against the thick wood. 

The dog sat again, a few feet from where Alex stood. The tall man let out a shaky breath, ran a hand through his sweaty hair and leant against the cold wall. 

His knees were shaking, too many close calls in one day taking their toll. He slid down the wall and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning his head back and trying not to completely break down. 

“I suppose I should thank you.” He said, flicking his gaze to the dog who just wagged its tail at him and stretched out to lie on the floor. 

The infected woman continued to pound at the door as Alex collected himself, the dog lying its head on top of its paws and watching him with interest. 

The attack on the door went on for what Alex guessed was around an hour or so, judging by the position of the shadows in the hallway. The whole time he sat still and tried not to think about how many times he could have died that day, the dog watched him the entire time. 

He must have started to doze off because he was suddenly snapping his head up as the dog made a gentle whining sound and cocking its head to the side. 

The noise from the door had stopped so Alex silently got to his knees and pressed his ear to the wood of the door. Upon hearing nothing, he reached a hand out and extended a finger to push the letterbox open half an inch. Seeing nothing on the other side he grew bolder, pushing the flap all the way open and pressing his face against the door. 

“She’s gone.” He sighed, not sure if he was talking to himself or the dog. He was by no means a stranger to talking to himself since he had been left alone but it somehow made him feel less stupid doing it with another living creature nearby, even if said animal couldn’t understand or reply. 

“Just because I didn’t lock you out with that thing doesn’t mean you can stay here.” He told the dog who lolled its tongue back out and wagged its tail harder than before. 

Alex sighed. “You can stay for tonight but I am not feeding you and tomorrow you need to leave.” The dog’s tail thumped harder still, hitting both walls in the thin corridor with solid ‘whumps’. 

“Shh.” Alex said, giving the animal a panicked look and lowering his voice to a whisper. “She might come back.” With a groan, Alex pulled himself to his feet using the door handle and moved further into the house. 

The kitchen was big, with a large wooden table that held one of Alex’s best finds. 

The second day in the neighbourhood he had gone to search the other houses and had hit a gold mine in the form of camping equipment in the garage of one of the fancier looking houses. Among the pristine sleeping bags and large rucksacks he had also found a camping stove and a foot tall tank of gas. By his estimation it was only half full, but he knew it would provide him with hours and hours of fire that he could put to good use. 

One of the first things he had done upon finding and bringing the objects back to the house had been to boil a huge saucepan of water and have his first wash in steaming hot water in what he estimated was around three months, followed by a cup of sickly sweet hot chocolate that made his teeth ache from the amount of sugar he had dumped into it. It had practically been like heaven. 

Alex rummaged in a cupboard, eyes dancing across the labels of tins for something comforting after his ordeal. The dog sat near the table, watching him again. 

He pulled down a couple of tins and turned them in his hands, trying to decide between soup and ravioli. 

The dog let out a small whimper as Alex placed the can of soup on the table and turned to rummage through a drawer for a tin opener. “I told you, I don’t have any dog food.” 

The dog let out a high pitched bark before whining again, lifting its left paw off the floor and holding it aloft. 

“Oh, come on!” Alex complained, the dog holding eye contact with him until Alex looked away. “Fine!” He snapped. “There’s some fucking horrible spam shit in here somewhere.” He ranted, pulling more tins from the cupboard. “I wouldn’t have ate it anyway, its rank.” He said, trying to convince himself that the dog had not just bested him with its begging. 

Alex ripped the ring pull open and snatched a bowl from his stash on the side. He slammed the metal of the tin against the plastic bowl until the cube of compressed meat and jelly slid out of the can with a stomach churning ‘glop’. 

With a fork, Alex stabbed at the meat until some was broken into chunks and other bits were basically mashed into a paste. 

The dog approached, tail wagging so hard that its whole back swayed with the movement. “You can wait, you twat.” Alex said, trying one again to sound commanding. “I’m making mine first so you don’t beg me for it once you scoff all yours.” 

The dog dropped its rear to the floor again, staring up at where the bowl rested as Alex heated up his soup and transferred it to a bowl for him to eat. 

He brought both bowls to the table and sat down, telling the dog to do the same beside him. Once it did as it was told, Alex put the bowl on the floor but the dog didn’t make a move for it until he sighed. “Do you want it or not? Go on. Twat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please let me know if this was any good?
> 
> i loved writing this one but and it was a slightly different style to some other stuff and i dont know if it is any good? 
> 
> thanks for reading!


	6. Broken bikes and backies

"Fuck!" Trott spat, kicking at the metal frame of his bike with his foot and ignoring the pain suddenly shooting through his toes. "Piece of fucking shit, wank, bastard!" He ranted as Ross looked on from a few feet away. 

"Trott, mate." He said, interrupting a second string of expletives. 

The shorter man clenched his jaw and looked over to his friend. "What?" He asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. 

"Kicking it isn't going to help." Ross supplied as Trott rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, but it makes me feel better." Trott admitted, giving it another swift kick. 

"It’s going to be dark soon, we should find somewhere to stay the night and maybe we will be able to fix it in the morning." 

Trott shook his head. "That fucking prick snapped the chain clean in two with his arm,” He ranted, gesturing towards what he thought was the way they had come from. “and the forks buckled when I hit that curb." 

Ross frowned. They had managed to survive their first attack by the infected pretty much unscathed, Trott's bike taking a fatal beating instead of one of the two men. 

"Do you even know where the fuck we are?" Ross asked, examining their surroundings. Neither man had taken any notice to where they were going as they fled the scene, managing to outrun the infected and get away, even with Trott dragging the useless bike along with him. 

Trott lowered himself to the ground with his back resting against a tree and pulled the map from his backpack. "How far back did we pass the church?" He asked, looking towards Ross as the dark haired man leant his unscathed bike against some bushes before joining Trott on the floor. 

"We passed with the church on the right, followed it until we reached the fork and went left." Ross supplied, running his index finger along the corresponding road on the map to show the other man. 

Trott nodded along, following the movement with his eyes. "Where did we go here?" Trott asked when the road split off again and Ross' finger halted. 

Ross scratched at the ragged stubble on his jaw. "That's where the first one was." He said, pointing to the road on the left. 

"So this must be where we entered the woods." Trott reasoned. 

Ross nodded. "Must have been." He agreed. "I don’t have any clue which direction we went after that, or for how long." 

Trott scanned around for any signs that there was a road nearby but saw nothing except trees, bushes and more trees. "Then I guess we better start walking." He said, pushing the map back into his bag. "The last thing we need during the fucking zombie apocalypse is to be out in the woods after dark." 

Ross snorted at laugh at him as he struggled to his feet and slung his bag back over his shoulders. "Sometimes I think we have watched too many horror films." 

The other man shrugged. "It's a bit different when you have to live it yourself, isn't it?" 

Ross reached for his bike, pulling it away from the bushes to push along side himself. "I don’t know, I think Zombieland wasn’t too far off – especially with the toilet thing." 

Trott let out an amused huff of air. "Yeah, good thing there's two of us I guess, so one can be a lookout." 

The talk of movies continued as the two men wound their way through the woods, trying to ensure they were moving in a straight line and not around in circles. Contrary to Trott's first impression, they weren't as deep into the woods as originally thought. Thirty minutes after starting their trek, they had emerged out onto a road. 

Ross pointed at a sign off in the distance, barely visible behind the foliage of a tree. "Come on, that should tell us where we are." He said, throwing his leg over the bike and looking at Trott. "Stand on the pegs." He directed. 

Trott gripped at Ross' shoulders almost painfully, his hands clamped down as Ross peddled – standing up and leaning forwards so he didn’t push Trott off from behind him with his bulky backpack. 

"Northampton?" Ross questioned as Trott stepped off the pegs and onto the floor. "Didn’t you say we should head west to avoid Northampton?" 

Trott nodded. "Let's go down this road," He suggested, gesturing with a flick of his head. "find a place to sleep, then we can head north west tomorrow and give the big cities a wide birth and try to find me another bike." 

Ross agreed and dismounted, following Trott down the road that they hoped would lead to a farm or other shelter. 

The road narrowed, the hedges bordering it creeping closer as the ground underfoot turned from tarmac to packed dirt. 

Ross bumped the bike along beside him and gripped the handlebars to lift the front wheel over large potholes until a building came into view through a break in the hedge. 

The house was much more modern inside then the exterior had led them to believe. Granite worktops and chrome appliances practically gleamed as they entered through what looked to be the back door, directly into the kitchen. 

Ross pushed the bike in front of him, not willing to risk leaving it outside and out of easy access should they need to make a quick exit. 

********** 

The next couple of days were torturous. They hadn't been able to find a second functioning bike and riding on the back of Ross' bike hurt both of them. 

They had tried swapping, having Trott peddle but the weight was taxing on their legs and they could only manage half an hour or so at a time before they needed a break and would walk. 

The miles were long and weren’t made any easier by the English weather which fluctuated between unseasonably warm or numbingly cold seemingly by the hour. 

Somehow they managed to stay clear of any more infected, the closest sign was some remains they had found in one of their potential choices for shelter. 

********* 

"Ross? Are you still awake?" Trott whispered in the darkness of the room. 

Ross didn’t answer immediately, instead shifting so he was lying on his back and letting his head fall to the side so he could look towards the outline of Trott next to him. "Yeah." 

Trott didn’t say anything for a few minutes, they both just lay in silence listening to the wind outside and each others even breathing. 

Ross was just about drifting off, his thoughts fogging when Trott took a breath. Ross' mind snapped back awake but still Trott didn’t speak, instead sighing gently and repeating the process a few more times until suddenly he was talking rapidly. 

"Do you think we should try and find a base to see if they have heard anything about Glasgow?" He asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing to speak. "They could have checked in by now and Katie could be up there worrying about us." 

Ross scrubbed at his eyes and blinked up at the dark ceiling. "I don’t know." He admitted. "The closer we get to a base, the more dangerous it will be." 

"And we don’t know if they'd even let us in." Trott added, remembering the quarantine that newcomers to their base had to go through before they would be allowed in with the general population. 

Ross grunted as he shifted to a more comfortable position on his side to face Trott more directly. "I'm not sure it's worth the risk, mate." He said gently. "What if they haven't heard anything but then won't let us leave?" He asked. "We only got out of our base because we knew about the unpatrolled gate. How long would it take us to get out of somewhere we don’t know?" 

"I suppose you`re right." The bed creaked as Trott moved. "I thought you would have tried to persuade me to go back to a base where it's safer." 

Ross huffed a sound that was somewhere between bitter and amused. "In case you haven't noticed Trott, I don’t really disagree with this trip. I just didn’t want you to go running off half cocked and getting yourself killed." He explained. "If we had gone when you originally wanted and in the state you were in then we would have ran headfirst into a crowd of infected within the first few miles." 

"We aren't exactly stealthy, are we?" Trott agreed thinking back to their run in earlier that day. 

Ross laughed gently. "Your screaming didn’t help, no." He teased. 

"I was surprised!" 

"So was that infected man you flailed at as you fell into him." 

Trott scowled at Ross in the darkness. "It stopped him taking a chunk out of you, didn’t it?" He accused. 

"I suppose it did, yeah." Ross replied. "Thanks." He added quietly. 

Trott nudged at Ross' shin with his toe. "Don't mention it, mate. Just remember that you owe me a rescue if I'm ever about to lose a bollock in an attack." 

********** 

"Leave it! It's fucked!" Trott yelled, yanking on Ross' arm to pull him along. 

Ross resisted. "It's just a puncture, we can fix it!" He argued as the group of infected drew closer. 

Trott pulled more aggressively. "It'll slow us down, we need to run." 

With a frustrated grunt, Ross threw the bike to the floor. Trott released his arm and they ran for it. 

Ross skidded around the corner, trying to keep up with Trott who, even with his shorter legs was faster than him. 

"Are they still coming?" Ross panted, crouching down with his back against the rough brick of the wall. 

Trott leant to the side, peering around the corner and down the street. "We lost a few." He reported, his face red from the run. "Still two left." 

Ross pushed himself up off the ground. "We can't keep running." He complained. "My legs are burning and if we run into a dead end then we're fucked." 

Trott gestured towards an open door down the nearest alley. "Come on. We can go through the building and out the other side." 

Ross took a few more deep breaths, sprinting off after Trott as he disappeared through the open door.


	7. Jars and Bikes

Alex woke with a start, a scratching sound breaking him from his dreams. He had gone to sleep with the dog in the room, reasoning that having it in with him was less likely to result in it attracting attention from any infected by barking or moving around in the night. 

The dog was scratching at the door, occasionally throwing a look over its shoulder at the man on the bed. 

"What do you want?" Alex asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pushed the blanket off his chest.

The dog whined, a high pitched whimper followed by more scratching at the base of the door. 

Alex slid out of the bed and shoved his legs into a pair of jeans and his bare feet into his boots. As soon as he had opened the door, the dog darted out and thundered down the stairs with Alex trailing behind. 

The animal waited by the back door, tail wagging rhythmically as Alex approached. "You want to go outside?"

The dog let out a quiet 'woof' which Alex took as a yes and so opened the door. 

"At least you didn’t piss in the bedroom." He muttered to himself as the dog sniffed at the long grass. "Good boy!" He called after it as it circled a patch that seemed to be particularly interesting before the animal squatted down. "-or girl." He said, scratching his scalp and yawning into the cold morning air. 

The dog bounded back inside and sat by Alex's legs and looked up at him as if waiting for direction. 

Alex closed the door gently and made his way towards the kitchen. He had managed to sleep half of the morning away - something he attributed to the exhausting quality of the day before – and his stomach was growling. 

"I bet you want feeding again too?" He grumbled, looking at the dog. 

She sat, paw extended and raised off the floor. 

"For fucks sake." Alex complained. "You are a fucking demon dog, I swear." 

Alex heated up his breakfast as the dog watched him search through the cupboard for something that he would most likely not eat, finding a tin of corned beef that he wrinkled his nose at. "Do you want this?" He asked, showing the dog the tin. 

She rose from the floor and sniffed at it, her tongue darting out to lick the back of Alex's hand. He made a disgusted noise and wiped his hand against his jeans. "Don’t lick me." He said without any heat to his voice. "It's rank."

They ate in silence, Alex going over the day before in his head and burying his head in his hands. With an abrupt movement, he stood. Deciding that dwelling on it would have no use.

Alex shuffled to the living room, deciding that he wasn’t ready to venture back outside just yet and went to examine the large bookshelf. 

Usually there wasn’t enough light for him to read, daylight hours were spent travelling or barricading or tinkering with things he needed for his survival. And books weren't exactly a necessity that he carried around with him as he moved from place to place. Today he didn't care, he didn’t need to secure the house or hunt for food, and even if he had needed to he probably wouldn't have, if he was completely honest with himself. 

He wanted to spend the day away. Take a holiday from his life and the fucked up world that he found himself in. 

With a grin, he pulled a book from the shelf. A blue dragon on the cover making him sigh in pleasure. This was what he needed. To lose himself in a world of magic, dragons and sword fights. He only wished it had been Tolkien, he missed the comfort that Middle Earth used to provide him in his younger years. 

Alex dropped the book to the sofa and pulled the whole thing towards the window to try and get the best light possible. He kicked off his boots and curled a leg under himself, reaching for the book and settling himself in to read. 

Had he been asked, he wouldn't have been able to tell anyone when or how the dog had managed to get on the sofa without him noticing. Nor how long he had been stroking her head and winding his fingers through the long hair at the base of her neck with one hand as the other held his book.

**********

Twat let out a low, warning growl. 

"I know, I know." Alex muttered, shoving as many tins and jars into his open bag as possible and rushing over to another shelf to swipe some tins of dog food into the bag. 

Alex threw a look towards the door that Twat guarded as he zipped the bag up and shrugged it over his shoulders. The name had stuck, it had been a little over two weeks since Alex had ran into his new companion and after the second day he knew he wouldn’t, or maybe couldn't, make her leave. 

She only seemed to respond to the name 'Twat'. He had spent hours going through every name he could think of for the dog but in the end had been frustrated and swore at her, she had barked and he called it her again as her tail thumped against a wall. He supposed he should tried harder to get her to respond to something else but somehow the name suited her – or maybe it just suited him. 

Twat had somehow wormed her way into his life and settled in as if it had always been the two of them. Her personality was of constant amusement to the man she travelled with. Alex was sure he hadn't smiled as much since before the outbreak and it was doing wonders for his general outlook, the constant state of numb acceptance being replaced by a playful and happier side to the man that relished the quiet times he could just be in a room with another living creature and the pure excitement and acceptance that Twat showed towards him. Twat didn’t judge him and he had needed that. 

With a short whistle Alex retreated to the door on the other side of the room from where Twat was standing. With one last rumble in her chest, Twat turned, trotted towards him and followed him out into the sunlight. 

They had perfected their routine for looting within the first couple of forays outside. Alex concentrated on finding and collecting as much as he could whilst Twat acted like an alarm system. Her superior senses warning them of approaching danger usually with more than enough notice to be able to escape without the infected even knowing they had ever been there. 

Her intelligence surprised him. He hadn't spent much time around dogs in his life, he hadn't been allowed one as a child. He hadn’t been allowed much of anything as a child, and he didn't know if all dogs were this clever or if it was just Twat – he tended to think the latter. 

They had moved from the original house, going east to escape the built up area they had originally found each other in and ran into a few scrapes that Twat had been invaluable in. She would distract the infected or just plain attack them if they got too close to Alex. The infected seemed to mostly ignore her whenever she growled or barked at them, their need for human flesh obviously much stronger than their want of canine meat as they would completely bypass the dog and go straight for the human she protected. 

"Come on." Alex whispered, checking around a corner before jogging in the direction of their current home, Twat hot on his heels. 

Alex pushed the door closed behind himself and made his way into the small kitchen. "You will never believe what I found." He said, dropping his bag to the table. 

Talking to Twat was something he had felt a little self-conscious about at first, worried that it would be indicative of some kind of mental breakdown should he give in to it but he had relaxed his stance on that quickly. It made him feel less alone, even if she couldn’t talk back to him – he had refrained from filling in her side of the conversation thus far and figured that was when he should start worrying. 

Twat wagged her tail at him and rubbed her side against his leg until he dropped a hand to her head to scratch behind her ear in a way that had one of her back legs lifting off the floor for a moment in pleasure. 

Alex emptied the bag and snatched up two spoons from a drawer before reaching for a jar and sinking to the floor with his back pressed against the cold, hard radiator on the wall. 

Twat sat in front of him, her tail sweeping against the tiled floor as he opened the jar and peeled off the foil. He brought the jar to his nose and sniffed deeply. "Holy fuck, that's fucking good." He sighed, pleasure etched across his features. 

He plunged one of the spoons in and removed a huge dollop, appraising it with something almost like lust. He slowly brought the spoon to his open mouth and scraped the beige substance off the spoon with his teeth. 

A moan, almost sensual in nature escaped him as he closed his eyes and lifted his face towards the ceiling. "Oh good god in heaven." He whined around the mouthful of peanut butter. "I have missed you, my love." He moaned, holding the jar at eye level. 

Twat nudged him with her nose as he narrowed his eye at her, swallowing. "You better fucking appreciate this." He said, pushing the other spoon into the jar to get some more before holding the full spoon out to the dog. 

She sniffed at the spoon before using her tongue to lap and scrape at the peanut butter, chewing at it with her top lip raised as Alex held back a laugh. "Well?" He asked, as if she would answer. “You look like you’re chewing a wasp.” 

Twat wagged her tail vigorously, licking at her lips rapidly and watching Alex take another spoonful for himself. Her big brown eyes met his as she lifted her paw at him. Alex snorted a laugh and told her she was a good girl before digging back into the jar to offer her another spoonful, a grin tugging at his lips. 

The jar was empty in no time and Alex looked at it forlornly before offering it to Twat who spent the next ten minutes noisily making sure every spot of peanut butter was gone before nudging at Alex`s hand until he admitted to himself that it was time for some proper food before turning in for the night. 

*********

Alex pushed his sunglasses onto his face as he followed Twat out of the building they had been scoping out. The whole place had been stripped of anything useful already so it had been a bit of a bust, most of this area of town seemed to have been ransacked and he was about ready to give up and go to another area. 

Twat sniffed around the edges of buildings as Alex looked up at the sky, trying to gauge the time by its position. “One more, mate.” He said to the dog. “Then I think an early night is called for.” Twat lifted her nose from where it had been practically plastered on the floor and offered him a sharp bark before disappearing around the corner. 

Alex sighed. “Apparently, we’re going that way.” He muttered to himself, jogging to follow his companion around the corner. 

He didn’t find her around the first corner so called out to her, worried – she hadn’t ever ignored his call before and so his heart calmed to a steadier pace once she let out another bark and he followed the sound around another corner. 

Twat was circling around a BMX, the silver paint looked strangely new in the sunlight and none of the spokes or exposed metal was rusted like other bikes he had found during his travels.

The dog sniffed at the bike incessantly as Alex examined it from a couple of feet away. It had an obvious puncture in the front wheel and still had dirt embedded in the tread that Twat was paying special attention to. 

Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right with Alex. He was sure they had been down this street on their way to the last building they had been in – he certainly hadn’t seen the bike then and he was positive he would remember something like this, an almost functional bike would suit him well and had he seen it earlier he would have claimed it and taken it back to the house to repair. 

The sound of screams reached him as he picked the bike up off the floor, Twat immediately running off towards the sound as Alex’s heart started to race and he had to make a snap decision whether to follow her or not.


	8. "Not today, Sunshine!"

The building was dark making it hard to navigate, Ross smashed his knee against something solid and bit back a loud expletive, hopping on one foot as he tried to follow the blurred outline of Trott as he wound through the room. 

The groaning of the infected echoed inside the large room as they entered through the doors that the two men had come through. Ross’ heart picked up speed as he tried to close the distance between himself and his friend without causing himself further injury. 

Trott sped up after glancing over his shoulder to ensure Ross was still with him, the men sped around a corner into a long corridor with a set of glass double doors standing open at the other end. 

Ross reached out with both arms to push Trott along as he craned his neck to watch two infected emerge from the darkened room they had just exited. “Go.” He spat before whipping his head back around to see why Trott was resisting his pushes. 

Another three infected were just outside the doors, they had spotted the two men and were headed right for them. 

Without a word, both men took off their packs, threw them down to rest against the wall and turned away from each other, their backs pressed together and each facing a threat.

“I’m starting to see your point of view about weapons.” Trott joked as the infected got closer. 

Ross nodded vigorously. “What I wouldn’t do for a fucking chainsaw right now.” 

“I’d settle for a stick, mate.” 

Ross snorted.

Trott’s smile was more of a grimace as he pressed his back more firmly into his friend and reached a hand to clamp around Ross’ in some form of reassurance – for himself or the other man he wasn’t quite sure. “Now is not the time for dick jokes, mate.” 

Ross squeezed Trott’s hand for a second. “There’s always time for dick jokes, Trott.” He said, voice sounding serious before dropping the other man’s hand and stepping into a defensive position. 

“If you die, I will kick your arse.” Trott threatened just before the first infected lunged for him. 

**********

Trott had taken the side with the three, reasons and arguments not needed between the two. Trott was the better fighter, he had martial arts training from when he was a kid and even if it was years ago it was still a whole fuck tonne more than Ross had. 

Ross couldn’t do much but push and shove at the infected, trying to get a grip on one of their hair so he could smash their head against the wall with a sickening crunch of broken cartilage and cracked plasterboard. 

The dark haired man skipped back steps as the other infected swiped at him, he manoeuvred around it and stumbled into the wall, tripping over his own backpack and hitting his head on the hard wood of the floor, his vision blurring. 

The world was spinning and he could taste blood on his tongue, Trott’s shouts were fainter – like he was underwater or something and the infected was baring down on him. 

*********

Trott let out an inhumane scream as he saw Ross fall, he smashed his elbow back and into the face of one of the infected then ducked under a swipe from the second and swept his leg to send the third to the ground. Moves from his younger days coming back to him and making his movements fluid and effective. 

He was distracted, trying to catch a glimpse of the dark haired man when one of the infected grabbed him in a bear hug from behind, lifting him off his feet. 

Trott kicked out at the infected in front of him, feeling a slight sense of satisfaction when he caught the one he had knocked to the floor in the chin – a sharp snap of bone sounding before it slumped to the floor and ceased movement. 

He struggled in the others grip, trying to free an arm or twist in the grip so he could hit or kick out. The infected’s fetid breath swept over his neck as it lowered its face to his skin. 

Another hand clamped around his ankle, the third one that had been knocked back when he had snapped the others neck with his kick. 

He could see Ross now, he looked dazed and his limbs seemed sluggish as he fended off the infected woman trying to gnaw at his face, blood dripped down Ross’ chin from what looked to be a deep gash in his head and possibly a broken nose. 

Trott redoubled his efforts, twisting his leg out of the one infected’s grip and bent his legs up to his chest, using his weight as much as possible to thrust them back down so they connected with the ground, the infected man bending with him to keep his hold. 

“Not today, Sunshine!” Trott screamed as the man again lowered his face to try and bite at Trott’s exposed neck. Trott snapped his head back, pain exploding across the back of his skull as it connected with the infected man’s face causing him to release Trott. 

**********

Alex threw the bike down to the ground and pulled the baseball bat from the side pocket off his backpack as he sprinted after Twat. 

He pulled the sunglasses off his face as he stepped into the dark building, folding them and tucking one of the arms down the neck of his t shirt as his eyes adjusted to the low lighting before following the sounds of Twat barking threateningly at something in the corridor beyond. 

“Not today, Sunshine!” 

Alex couldn’t help but smirk at the shout from the man nearer the other end of the hall as he pulled off a particularly cool looking backwards head butt to the infected who had him in his grip. 

Twat had obviously launched herself right into helping the man as she had her mouth clamped around the leg of another infected who was struggling against the animal, trying to get to where he struggled with the other infected but was evidently holding his own, even without a weapon. 

Alex ran forwards, his bat held back to swing at another infected who was clawing at another man with dark hair and blood pouring down his face. The man swatted the infected man’s arms but his movement were slow and the infected was overwhelming him. 

The bat connected with a satisfying clunk of metal on bone, the infected man being thrown a few feet by the force. Alex held a hand out to the man on the floor, the man looked him up and down but didn’t take the offered appendage. 

“For fucks sake.” Alex swore, his teeth gritted. Reaching down, he grabbed the other man’s arm and pulled him to his feet where the man swayed for a moment. Alex pushed him against the wall, and pressed the bat into his arms. “Take this.” He ordered, meeting the man’s icy blue eyes until he nodded his understanding and wrapped both hands around the handle of the bat. 

Alex reached into the other side of his bag and pulled out a second bat, wooden but no less dangerous when it came to caving in the skulls of the infected in his experience. 

A yelp of pain had Alex seeing red, Twat had been thrown against the wall by the infected she had been fighting. With a scream of rage Alex swung the bat as he skidded to a halt in front of the infected as it reached towards Twat to finish what it had started – obviously having given up on getting to the other man who was still fighting the last one. 

It took a few swings before the man stopped moving, his face barely recognisable as a face anymore. Alex spared a look for Twat who was back standing and raced passed him to help the man still fighting. 

The infected had the man’s right arm at an awkward angle that was obviously painful as he screamed against it being bent the wrong way. Twat went straight for the infected’s leg, sharp teeth sinking into its flesh seemingly painlessly as it didn’t react. 

“Trott!” The scream sounded behind Alex as the infected brought the man’s arm to its mouth. 

He was too far away – his eyes widened as the infected bit down and the man let out a panicked scream and struggled more fiercely a popping sound causing bile to rise is Alex’s throat just before he was within swinging distance. 

“Duck!” He shouted, the man stooped as low as possible whilst still in the grip of the infected man. 

Alex swung the bat and it connected with the side of the infected’s head, causing it to stumble and throw the man it had in its hands against the wall where his head connected and he fell to the ground unmoving. 

Alex didn’t miss a beat as he lunged for the infected man again, Twat now managing to pull him back from the unconscious man with jerky movements full of loud growls. 

The second man shot forward, the metal bat clanging against the wooden floor as he fell to the floor next to his friend and turned him over to look at his face. 

“Eat this, you prick!” Alex shouted as the bat held in both his hands slammed into the infected man’s face before swinging back for another hit – and another.

*********

Ross’ heart was beating too fast, adrenaline surging through his bloodstream as he fell to the ground beside Trott. 

“Trott!” He reached out a shaky hand and turned the man over, a thin line of blood running from a shallow cut in his temple. “Chris! You fucking bastard, wake up!” He said, shaking the other man’s shoulders with probably more force than he should have. 

“Eat this, you prick!” 

Ross didn’t look over as their rescuer finished off the last of the infected, too intent on his best friend in his arms. 

He didn’t realise he was crying until there was suddenly a dog licking at his hand that was clutching Trott’s arm as he rocked back and forth and he realised his vision was misted from moisture. 

Ross blinked away the tears and watched as the man who had come to their rescue stowed his two baseball bats back into the side pockets of his rucksack and picked up Ross and Trott’s bags, making his way over to Ross. 

The man crouched down in front of him. “We need to get out of here before more come.” 

Ross shook his head and clutched Trott closer to his chest. There was no way he was leaving Trott here. 

“Let him go.” The man said, holding out one of the bags to Ross, it was Trott’s. 

“I can’t leave him.” Ross said, his voice sounding surprisingly strong, a million miles from what he actually felt in that moment. 

The man shook his head. “We won’t, but I need you to carry the bags.” 

Still he didn’t move, wasn’t sure if he should believe him that they wouldn’t leave Trott. The man stood and held the bag out to him, eyes locked with his for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds. 

Ross slid out from under Trott and pushed himself to his feet using the wall, taking both the bags from the other man and awkwardly slinging them onto his back. “How are we-?” 

He didn’t need to wait for an answer as the taller man bent and took Trott’s undamaged arm, pulling him from the ground and over his shoulder with a groan. 

The man stood up straighter, shifting the unconscious man into a more comfortable position and letting out a quiet whistle towards the dog who had been standing at Ross’ side since he stood up. “Check the road.” He said, gesturing to the glass doors with his head. 

The dog let out a gentle yip in response and disappeared outside. 

“You can walk, right?” 

Ross nodded. “Uh, yeah.” 

The man didn’t say anything further as he started walking to the door, Ross following closely behind.


	9. Medic!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward little shits

Ross fell into step beside the other man as they exited onto the street. His head was still fuzzy, vision blurring with the beat of his heart. The cool air outside stung his face, his nose feeling the brunt of it as he wiped away fresh blood and grimaced against the feeling of more of it drying in a crusty layer in other areas. 

The dog seemed to be scouting ahead, looking around corners before the men got there and shooting the taller man looks over her shoulder as she did so to check on their progress. 

They skirted the edge of town, heading to the river and following it for a while. Ross had so many questions for the man but he didn’t have the energy to voice them, everything he had left was put into taking the next step, and the next. Most of all, he tried not to think about Trott slung over the other man's shoulder and averted his eyes from Trott's right arm hanging limply down the man's back.

The walk had probably not taken long – time seemed to be something he was having trouble with -, but Ross was exhausted when the man held a hand up to stop him walking around the next corner. 

Ross leant against the wall and took short, shallow breaths as the man whistled at the dog. "Check it." He told the animal, gesturing around the corner and coming to stand by Ross. 

The man bent at the waist and leant on outstretched arms, Trott still over his back. "Fucking good job it was the little one who needed carrying." He muttered, Ross assumed it was to himself rather than Ross as it had been so quiet and he hadn't been looking at him when he said it.

The dog trotted back around the corner and nudged the man's leg with her nose in what Ross assumed was the all clear since the man took Trott's uninjured arm back into this hand and straightened up. "This way." He directed, striding off around the corner. 

Ross followed closely as they hurried towards a block of flats coming to a stop in the doorway that was barred by a solid looking wood and metal door. Using his left hand to steady Trott, he took out a bunch of keys from his pocket and shook them out until he had the one he had been looking for, shoving it into the lock and turning. 

Using his hip, the man pushed the door open and waited for Ross to follow him inside before pushing it closed with a kick of his foot and making his way to the stairs. 

The dog rushed ahead, her nails clicking on the linoleum covered steps. Ross trudged up the stairs behind the other man, wondering how the hell he was still able to carry Trott after the fight and subsequent journey when Ross could barely stand. 

Ross swayed against his exhaustion and what he thought might be a mild concussion as the man opened one of the flats door with a key and strode into the room, heading straight for a large bed that was placed in the middle of the room.

With more care than Ross had expected, he lowered Trott to the mattress and arranged his injured arm to rest against his stomach. “Close the door.” The man said, not sparing Ross a glance as he disappeared through another door. 

Ross dropped both bags to the floor and did as he had been requested, looking around the room at the strange mixture of home comforts and camping equipment before making his way over to Trott. 

He gave into the shaking in his legs and let himself sink to the bed, leaning back on one arm to look over Trott’s unconscious face. Trott looked pale, his skin clammy with sweat. Still, somehow he looked peaceful and much younger than Ross remembered him looking just hours earlier. 

Ross watched the rise and fall of his best friend’s chest, repeating to himself over and over in his head that Trott was okay – would carry on being so. Lying to himself was something the dark haired man was good at, and was definitely nothing new.

**********

Alex closed the cupboard with a sigh, sparing himself a glance in the mirror as he turned and snatched up some towels that he had left draped over the side of the bath. 

His hair was uneven and stuck up in clumps from the horrific hair cut he had given himself when he and Twat had first arrived at the flats and he had found some scissors. His beard was better, cut close to his face by an electric razor he had found that still had some battery – why he hadn't used the same thing to cut the hair on his head was a mystery to him but it was done now, his hair shorter than he usually liked it already. 

There was blood splattered over his t shirt but that was nothing unusual and didn’t really bother him anymore. The blood on his arms and chin though, that needed to be washed off. That’s what you did when you had company, right? You made yourself presentable. 

It had been so long since he had spoken to another person and he was feeling strangely uncomfortable with the idea of sharing his living space with these two men that he had found, hoping that Twat was a good judge of character and that they meant them no harm. Waking up with a knife in his back was not something that Alex wanted to experience. 

He passed the men on the bed without comment, collecting bottles of water before he settled at the table set up near the other two people and emptied one of the bottles into a large pan setting it atop the one ring burner to heat up. 

The dark haired man was looking down at his friend. Alex cleared his throat and the other man whipped his head around to look at him. “You should go clean yourself up.” He said gently. “There’s water and stuff in the bathroom.” 

The man nodded, patting at the unconscious man’s leg before standing. 

Alex watched him go as the water started to roll to a boil and he took it off the heat, transferring some of it to a plastic bowl and taking the seat that the dark haired man had vacated next to his friend. 

The other man hadn't said anything since they had set out from the place his friend had been bitten. Alex had eyed him critically as they had walked, noting his far away stare and stumbling movements that could either indicate shock or concussion or maybe a mixture of both.

The water quickly turned a dirty reddish brown, the towel he was using to dab at the man similarly discoloured as he contemplated the strange pair. They had obviously known each other for a while, the panic on the dark haired man's face much too prominent for them to be merely acquaintances.

The bite wasn’t deep, not all of the infected man’s teeth had broken the skin but it was enough to cause Alex some concern as he wiped the towel over it, washing the dried blood away to expose the puckered and angry looking skin.

“Is- Is he going to-?” The man’s voice sounded almost broken as he stumbled over his words, leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, his face now clean – his nose wasn't as swollen as Smith had thought before but one eye already sported a deep purple bruise that somehow seemed make his alarmingly blue eyes more pronounced.

Alex stood up slowly to empty out the dirty water and replace it with some clean. “I don't know.” Alex averted his eyes from the crestfallen look on the other man’s face and tried to ignore the choked sob that met his words. “I might be able to do something.” He added, not being able to deny the man some form of hope, even if it didn’t always work.

“What?” The man asked, voice loud. He strode over to sit next to his friend on the other side of the bed, hand poised about to brush back the other man's hair from his face, waiting for Alex to elaborate.

Alex returned with the water and a fresh towel, folding it into a long strip and soaking the middle in the steaming water. “Hot water helps to draw the infection out.” He explained as he wrapped the hot towel around the bite tightly. “It will need refreshing every twenty minutes or so.” He said. “If I thought we would have had time I would have made a tourniquet to slow the blood flow but having him passed out and his arm below his heart should have helped a little.”

“Will it stop him from-?” The man asked, gesturing to the hot towel on his friends arm but unable to finish his sentence. 

“It’ll stop as much of it getting into his system but he will still have to try and fight the rest of it off.” 

“But it can be done?” He asked, quickly. Obviously clinging onto any hope he could. “He could still be okay?” 

Alex nodded. “Worked before.” He said rolling his sleeve up and holding it out for the other man to see. 

*********

Ross leant over Trott to get a look at the man’s extended arm. The scar stood out pale against the skin, a torn section of shiny flesh that looked much more serious that the one on Trott’s arm. “How long will it take?” 

The man shrugged at him. “It’s different for different people, but shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.” He answered. “And we’re far enough away from any infected that he shouldn’t attract any attention.” 

Ross narrowed his brows. “Attract attention?” 

“Just be glad he is passed out right now, is all I’m saying.” The man responded, going back to the table and turning the burner back on. 

Ross followed him to the table and sat opposite, the dog who had been curled up on some blankets in the corner coming over and nudging at his hand resting on his knee until he moved it to her head. “You have a nice set up here.” Ross offered, trying to make small talk. 

The man shrugged again. “It’s alright.” He said, pulling some canisters towards himself. “I have some tea- if you want?” 

Ross’ head shot up from where it had been looking down at the dog. “Tea? Like- honest to God tea?” He blurted. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The man said, eyebrow raised. The dog left the Ross’ side to sit by the other man’s feet as he rummaged in cupboards, the tall man almost tripping over her as he turned back to the table. “For fucks sake, Twat.” He scalded. “I’ll feed you in a minute.” The dog whined at him and he rolled his eyes. “Stop being so fucking melodramatic.” He groaned. “You ate this morning.” 

The animal whined again and Ross snorted a laugh at their interaction. “I don’t think she wants to wait.” 

“She never wants to wait for food.” The man grumbled. 

“Speaking of-” Ross interjected. “I don’t suppose I could borrow your hob to heat something up? Haven't had anything hot for like a week.” Honestly, the thought of eating turned his stomach but he knew that Trott would go ballistic if the let this opportunity pass without taking it and the knowing the food would be hot would make it much more palatable, even on a stomach full of worries for his best friend. 

“Yeah, go for it.” He answered, taking the water off and filling two cups. “I- um.” He wet his lips before continuing, wondering why it was so hard to talk to another person - he had assumed that the first person he ran across he would have talked their ear off. “I didn’t get your name before?” 

Ross paused to glance over his shoulder from where he was going through his bags and pulling out tins. “Ross.” He said, awkwardly patting himself in the chest. “That’s Trott.” He continued, gesturing to the prone figure on the bed.

“Alex Smith.” The man returned. “And that little fucker-” He said, pointing to the dog who was sitting and wagging her tail. “Is Twat.” 

“Twat?” 

“Yeah.” 

Ross pulled his brows together in confusion but didn't comment as the taller man smiled properly for the first time since Ross had laid eyes on him.


	10. Soup and Crackers

Ross regretted their meal. The hot soup had barely been finished when Trott woke screaming, turning Ross’ stomach in anguish for the other man.

Twat, who had made her way over to the bed as the two men ate to curl up next to Trott’s side leapt from her position and darted to Smith’s side, pressing the length of her body against his leg.

Ross immediately shot from his seat to stumble over to his friend who was thrashing on his back. 

“What the fuck do we do?” Ross asked, throwing a panicked look towards Smith who hadn’t yet moved from his seat.

Smith’s face seemed to have drained of colour, his beard standing out in stark contrast next to his blood drained skin. “Hold him down.” Smith answered, voice sounding far away in his own ears.

Ross knelt on the bed, his eyes darting over Trott’s body that was contorting into painful looking positions. He didn’t want to hurt the other man further and hesitated to move as Trott’s screams continued.

Ross let himself be shoved aside, Smith’s shouted ‘move’ and accompanied push to his shoulder sending him sprawling to the floor at the side of the bed with a ‘thump’.

Ross scooted backwards until his back connected with the wall. Trott’s cries taking on a more coherent nature as words started to be thrown into the screams.

Twat pushed herself onto Ross’ lap. The dog was much too big to fit but was seemingly uncaring as she prodded at Ross with her nose until he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest and buried his face into her black fur.

Smith pulled at Trott’s legs, kneeling on Trott’s thighs and fighting not to be thrown off.  
“Please!” Trott begged, his voice cracking with intensity. “Just kill me.”

Smith ignored the choked sob that came from the direction of the dark haired man against the wall and instead addressed the other man, beneath him.

“No can do mate.” He answered, tearing up a piece of cloth from the bedspread until he had a small ball of it in his hand. “I don’t kill people anymore.” He added quietly, leaning forwards and jamming the cloth into Trott’s mouth before pinning Trott’s arms down with his hands clamped over Trott’s forearms. “Don't you dare fucking die on me, you prick.”

Trott’s back arched off the bed, his legs and arms unable to move under the weight of the man on top of him, his shouts were muffled by the crude gag.

“Come on!” Smith encouraged, his teeth clenched. “Fight it.” He said, shifting his knees as Trott moved to keep him pinned.

It lasted only ten minutes, but to Ross it seemed like hours. Ross kept his face pressed into Twat’s fur so he didn't have to watch the men struggle on the bed, trying to ignore the sounds of a creaking bed, forced grunts, profanities from Smith and Trott’s muffled screams and protests.

Smith’s short hair was plastered to his forehead, sweat dripping down his face and staining his shirt with dark stripes in the centre when Trott finally lost consciousness again.

Smith released Trott’s arms, wincing at the finger shaped bruises already present on Trott’s pale skin before rolling off him and lying, panting, next to him on the bed.

Ross shuffled to his knees once Twat moved back over to the bed, nuzzling against Smith’s hand that was dangling off the side of the bed.

“It’s alright, girl.” Smith mumbled, stroking Twat’s head and scratching behind one of her ears. “It’s done for now.”

Ross rose from the floor. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking over the bed and trying to ignore the small trail of blood escaping out the corner of Trott’s mouth.

Smith took a few deep breaths before answering. “He’s much stronger than he looks.” He complained, letting out a pained groan as he sat up to look over Trott. “That’s a good thing, though.”

Ross wet his lips and stood awkwardly for a moment, looking down at his feet. “I see what you meant about the noise now.”

Smith snorted in amusement and turned to place his feet on the floor. “Put some more hot water on, his bandage needs doing again.”

Ross nodded, glad to be given something to do. “Is that going to happen again?” He asked as he poured water into a pan, setting it on the one ring burner.

“Probably.” Smith answered gently, leaning over Trott to pull the gag out of his mouth. “We’re going to need to get some water in him in the next few hours.”

Ross halted his movements for a second, balking from the thought that they would have to wake Trott to do that.

They waited in silence as the water heated, Ross removing it from the flame once the edges started to bubble.

Smith swiftly stood from the bed as Ross neared. “I’m going to clean up. Make sure you wrap it tight.” He instructed before leaving the room.

Ross worried his bottom lip between his teeth and blinked back the lingering wetness in his eyes. Trott had to be okay. There was no question about it. He had to be. If he wasn’t then Ross wasn’t sure what he would do or if he could continue to find Katie without him.

**********

Silence descended in the room and continued even when Smith returned, sitting himself at the table as Ross rewrapped Trott’s arm with the hot bandages. 

“Don't suppose you have more tea?” Ross asked once he was done, looking over at Smith. 

The other man nodded and busied himself with preparations. Ross pushed himself up from the bed and walked the few steps to the table and sat down on the chair he had occupied earlier.

“I never asked.” Ross started. “Why you’re out here on your own?” 

Smith didn’t look at him as he responded. “It’s better this way.” 

Ross knitted his brows together in confusion. “Better?” He questioned. “Better than being safe in a base with loads of other people and not having to fight off the infected all the time?” 

“Better than being a sitting duck in an all you can eat buffet for the infected by bunching up.” 

“The bases are safer than out here.” Ross protested, pulling his tea towards him. 

Smith snorted a breath into his tea. “Tell that to Norwich and Swansea.” 

Ross looked up at the other man who seemed to be trying to divine some kind of epiphany from his drink. “It’s still less risky than being out in the open.” 

Smith shrugged at him. “If you like bases so much, why aren’t you in one?” 

“We were.” Ross admitted. “But our friend Katie, she was up in the Glasgow one.” 

Smith looked confused. “And you couldn't wait it out until the bases get shut down in a few months?” 

Ross wasn't sure how much the other man knew, he obviously knew about the plan in the bases to starve out the infected but it sounded like he hadn't heard about Glasgow going off the grid. “Glasgow stopped checking in with the network just under a week ago.” 

Smith raised his eyebrows and snorted in amusement. “What? So you and Short Stuff decided to go gallivanting up the country to go to her rescue?” 

Ross looked down at his drink, hurt by the comment but not denying it. “Something like that, yeah.” 

“You won’t be able to move on for a while, not whilst he is like that.” Smith said, gesturing to Trott. 

“How long?” 

Smith sighed. “Maybe a week, even then it would be better to wait longer for his shoulder to heal more, if you get in another fight then he won't be able to use it very well and could do permanent damage to it.” 

Ross nodded. “Do you know where the nearest base is? I was thinking of maybe heading over and asking if they have heard anything else about Glasgow whilst Trott is out of commission.” 

“I wouldn’t recommend going anywhere near the base around here.” Smith answered. “The whole surrounding area is littered with infected, you’ll end up getting yourself killed. 

Ross sat back in his seat, looking defeated. “I just feel like I should be doing something to help whilst we’re here.” 

“You can.” Smith answered. “Once he is out of the woods I’m going to need to get more food. There’s plenty of water here but I don't have enough for four to last for more than a couple of days in food.” He continued. “You can at least help carry supplies back, with Twat around it’s not that dangerous going out, she’s a good early warning system” 

Ross smiled at the look on the other man’s face as he looked towards the dog who was snuggled up against Trott on the bed. “Her name-?” Ross questioned.

Smith chuckled quietly. “Found her around four months ago.” Smith replied. “Or she found me, not really sure.” He said wistfully. “Rescued me and hasn’t left my side since, she won’t answer to anything else.”

*********  
Trott woke once more, later in the evening. Smith had been at the table with a bunch of clunky looking padlocks and a pouch of small metal prongs, practicing the skill that had probably been the most useful to him since the world fell apart.

Ross had been sitting next to the bed, his eyes without focus, staring at nothing and trying not to think.

Trott groaned in pain and brought his legs up to his chest, curling in on himself.

“Trott?” Ross questioned, moving from the chair to perch on the edge of the bed.

“What’s-?” Trott’s voice was deeper than normal, a gravely quality tinting it that Ross usually associated with a hangover on the other man. Trott tried to clear his throat, breaking out into almost screaming coughs that wracked his whole body and sent red coloured spittle to spray across the pillow.

Smith seemed to know what was coming before it happened, dragging a bucket over to the men on the bed. Smith propped Trott up against him and shoved the bucket under Trott’s nose just in time to catch the pitiful contents of Trott’s empty stomach.

“You need to drink.” Smith supplied, bending to snatch a bottle of water from the floor.

Trott grabbed for it, unscrewing the cap with shaking hands. Smith halted his movements with a hand on the bottle.

“Small sips.” He instructed. “If you gulp it down you’ll just throw it back up.”

Trott nodded at him as Smith released his hold on the bottle. Heeding the other man’s warnings, Trott took small swallows, letting the water run down his parched throat in small increments rather than downing the whole thing like his brain was screaming at him to.

Trott finished the bottle within a few minutes and Smith moved away again. Trott tried to dampen the pained scream caused by pushing himself back against the headboard by gritting his teeth.

“Steady, mate.” Ross tried to sooth, his voice gentle. “Smith put your shoulder back in but it’s going to be painful for a while.”

“No fucking shit, Sherlock.” Trott tried to joke through the pain.

Ross rolled his eyes at his friends attempt at humour. “Do you want something to eat?” He asked.

Trott shook his head. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep it down.”

“Catch.”

Ross turned just in time to stop the red box that was flying towards his face from hitting him in the nose.

“You need to keep your strength up to fight off the infection.” Smith said, looking at Trott.

Trott eyed the red box. “Where did you find these? Are they even in date?”

Ross tore the box open and pulled out the plastic bag inside. “They’re still sealed, mate.” He said. “Just try and eat some, yeah?”

Trott dipped his uninjured hand into the bag and pulled out a couple of the dry crackers, a greasy coating seem to immediately rub off on his fingers. “I don't even like Ritz.” He complained, bringing one to his mouth and biting it in half.

“I don't like your face, but i have to keep looking at it.” Ross countered with a small smirk.

Trott kicked his leg, his toe connecting with Ross’ shin. “Fuck off.” He mumbled around a mouthful of dry cracker.


	11. Scars aren't always on the outside

Ross slept surprisingly well the first night in Smith’s temporary home, even if he did have to sleep on the floor – it was at least softened by cushions from the sofa that he had tried to arrange next to the bed where Trott slept. 

Smith had shut himself in the bedroom that Ross was yet to see inside of and assumed there was no bed in, unless Smith had dragged a bed from another flat into the living room – he couldn’t be sure. 

Ross and Smith had spent the rest of the evening in silence after Trott had managed to drift back off to sleep with Twat curled up next to him. Smith didn’t seem inclined to talk much and Ross was in such a mixed state of emotions that he didn’t really care. 

The feeling of guilt was the strongest. Guilt that he could have done something to stop Trott getting bitten, guilt that it should have been him and not Trott, guilt that this whole incident had set them back and meant they would take longer to get to Katie and more than anything, the guilt that radiated through him from the feeling of safety that the flat had provided and the fact that Ross was glad that he and Trott wouldn’t be moving on very quickly from it. 

Ross wasn’t sure what to make of Smith. It was pretty obvious that he had been alone for a while, he would sometimes mutter to himself or seem to be surprised to look up and see that he wasn’t alone in the room.

Still, somehow, Ross could do nothing but admire the obvious resilience in the other man. His bare arms showed more than just the bite mark. Various scars littered his hands and arms, from long, thin lines to a couple of mottled patches that shone when the light hit them – burns, from what? Ross didn’t want to ask. 

There was a sadness in the other man that resonated with Ross, he couldn’t put his finger on it but it made him want to protect the other man, maybe to pay him back for what he had done for him and Trott or maybe just because- 

It wasn’t just that Smith had rescued them from the infected or helped Trott. He had taken charge of the situation, making decisions that Ross had balked at and saved Ross from having to make them. 

Ross wasn’t a leader, he knew that. He wasn’t the kind of person to take control of a situation unless there was no alternative. He much preferred to make decisions slowly, being able to think through options and consequences before laying down a solid plan and in the world he found himself in now, that was pretty useless – snap decisions and risks needed to be made and taken. 

The dark haired man had woken up when Smith had opened the bedroom door. Without a word to Ross he shuffled around the bed, glancing at Trott as he passed before he opened the front door and let out a short whistle to Twat who climbed off the bed and followed Smith out of the flat. 

**********

Smith had spent the night in a light sleep, not used to sleeping without Twat pressed to his side, or to having other people in the vicinity. The dog seemed to sooth Trott by being close and Smith wasn’t that much of a prick to deny the man who was more than likely in agony that small bit of comfort. 

One day. Not even a full day, and he was already going soft. Smith snorted at himself in disgust as he made his usual morning walk around of the flat whilst Twat answered the call of nature. 

Should he have said something to Ross before he left? Let him know where he was going? Smith shrugged at his internal questions. It didn’t really matter now, he supposed. It was done and there was nothing he could do about it and apologies had never really been his style. 

He opened the door to the flat as quietly as he could. He wanted Trott to sleep as much as possible. He did not relish the thought of a repeat of the incident from the night before, it was too much. Too soon he supposed, even if it had been months. 

Smith bit his lip as he looked over at the pale man on the bed, he looked so small and fragile. 

Had he looked like that? Had he looked so hollow and lifeless as he lay there, his body fighting so hard to just keep going? – blood barely pumping, heartbeat so faint and yet giving a feeling of so much weight on his chest.

He accepted the tea that Ross had made with a nod, still too lost in past memories to offer more than that to the man opposite. 

He hoped the dreams were a one off, just something that he had experienced and nothing to do with the infection – no one should have to go through them in his opinion. He hoped that Trott - a man he didn’t even know - wasn’t in the same hell he had been. 

Dreams may have been the wrong word, is it merely a dream when you swear you can feel the flames licking up your skin?

Smith had, had dreams before. He had, had lucid dreams for most of his life – dreams that bent reality only slightly and made him believe they were real but the horrors from his brief time of having the virus in him were on a completely different level. 

He shivered and pulled the hot mug closer, cupping both hands around it to try and forget the icy feel of infection running through his veins – so cold that it eventually turned into a burn.

**********

“Are you okay?” 

Smith snapped his head up from where it had been bent, staring into his tea. “What?” 

“Are you okay?” Ross repeated. “You’ve gone really pale.” 

Smith busied himself by taking a large swallow of too hot tea before answering, almost glad for the burning down his throat to distract him from his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He answered shortly. 

Ross raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t push, instead deciding to change the subject. “Where exactly are we?” He paused for a second. “Trott and I kind of lost track of where exactly we were, we were planning on finding somewhere to bed down for the night when they started chasing us and I didn’t really keep track on what direction we went in.” 

The taller man took another swig of his tea as Ross talked. “Tamworth.”

Ross reached down beside the table and pulled his bag closer, pulling out a couple of items and laying them on the floor to get to his map. He spread it out on the table and stood to get a better look. 

Smith pushed himself to his feet and jabbed at the map with a forefinger to indicate their location. “We’re here.” He stated. “The main part of town is east but there is a retail park to the west where I have been getting most of my supplies. It’s pretty quiet down there.” 

Ross nodded as Smith pointed out the places on the map. “We were meant to go further east to avoid this town and skirt through the villages instead.” 

Smith nodded. “Is this Katie girl really worth all this?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

Ross snorted at Smith’s query. What the fuck sort of question was that? “Katie and Trott are pretty much the only people I have had who gave a shit about me the last three years or so.” Smith narrowed his brows in confusion but didn’t speak. “And to Trott she is pretty much his everything.” Ross continued. “So, yeah. She is worth this.”

Ross didn’t miss the hurt look on the other man’s face. Ross supposed that since Smith was out here alone he didn’t have anyone like that left and felt a twinge in his stomach at the loneliness the other man must be feeling. 

**********

Trott woke as the sun hit the highest point in the sky. It was worse in the daylight and the long sleep had obviously given the other man more energy. 

Smith was almost glad that Ross was taking Trott’s struggles so hard. It meant that the dark haired man likely missed how tears rolled down Smith’s face and off his nose, splashing into Trott’s hair as Smith struggled to hold him down. Trott’s screams and shouts at Smith to end his suffering covered the sounds of Smith’s own confessions and apologies that tumbled from his mouth without intent. 

He was seeing it from the other side now, seeing the reason Tom had been so worried when it was Smith in Trott’s place. When it was Smith’s face that looked so gaunt and pasty. Smith couldn’t remember much passed the pain from his own infection but he knew he had screamed himself out during his episodes of wakefulness – his mouth opening and closing trying to make more screams but not being able to push sound out through his abused vocal chords. 

The pain had been nothing like he had ever experienced in his life. He had nothing real to compare it to. Like lava running through his veins, setting each and every nerve ending alight throughout his body. It was a pain that stole away dignity and humanity and his sense of self. He wasn't Alex Smith in those moments of wakefulness – he wasn't anything but screaming agony, mind totally lost.

Tom hadn’t looked at him the same for weeks afterwards and now he could see why. If he had been talking like Trott was, begging for a release from the pain from anyone who could hear. 

Smith hoped the latest struggle from Trott was the last. He wasn’t sure that Trott’s heart or body would take another spike of adrenaline and panic. It was better that he stayed asleep now – they had managed to get more food into him after the crackers the night before and it needed to be enough to see him through. 

Smith pushed himself up from the bed where he had collapsed again once Trott had stopped thrashing. Without a word to the dark haired man at the table Smith shoved his feet into his shoes and left the flat, pausing outside to catch his breath and steady his shaking limbs. 

Memories flashed unbidden through his mind. Dead eyes open and unblinking staring back at him as he ran through the streets, jumping over corpses and trying not to see. Each and every one he had unconsciously committed to memory and now was brought to the forefront of his mind.

The children were the worse.

Ross found Smith ten minutes later as he sat on one of the hard stairs that wound down to the ground floor and out of the building, Smith hadn’t made it that far before giving in to the quaking of his knees. 

“If you try and tell me you’re fine again I will kick you in the balls.” 

Smith smiled despite himself, opting to let out a sigh rather than answer properly. 

“I get it, if you don’t want to talk about it.” 

Smith nodded his head and pressed his lips together tightly – he wasn’t sure if it was to stop him speaking or stop the sob that was threatening to bubble up his throat. 

“So,” Ross started, looked around the empty stairway for inspiration. “-Weather’s been pretty good.” 

Smith’s bark of a laugh descended into choking sobs that wracked his whole frame as he finally lost the battle with his body. 

“Shit.” Ross mumbled, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around the taller man’s shoulders. “Don’t cry mate, it wasn’t that bad a joke.”

Smith’s breath hitched as a small laugh bubbled up through the tears. “Yes it was.” 

Ross laughed and pulled his arm tighter around the man next to him, trying to offer what little comfort he could as Smith leaned to the side, his shoulder pressed into Ross’ armpit.


	12. Trip to the shops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping... kind of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,  
> I just want to say sorry for this taking so long to get out. Real life has been kicking my ass and I kind of started to have a bit of a social life too, which is a bit strange for me but it involves being completely fucking nerdy and playing D&D so its super fun.   
> I am hoping that work is calming down now (and it isn’t a temporary thing) so that I can write more in the week because since starting my new job it has been almost impossible to do that.   
> Anyway! I just want to thank you for sticking with me on this one and I will try my best to not let it be this long between chapters again.   
> Super shout out to Nisha for the push with this one, couldn’t have done it without you Neesh! <3

Ross hadn’t been sure what to do as the other man cried, he was unused to being the one comforting – that was usually Trott’s job.

With nothing to say he sat with the other man until his backside went numb from the hard stairs and the fingers on the arm that was around Smith started to tingle as they were held aloft around the other man’s shoulder.

Smith wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and leant away from Ross. Ross’ arm fell from his shoulder and he flexed his fingers to get the blood flowing again. “Come on.” Ross said, pulling himself to his feet using the banister next to him. “I’ll make some tea.”

Smith huffed a breath through his nose. “Kinda feeling like something stronger.”

The dark haired man huffed a breath out of his nose. “Bit early for that isn’t it?”

Smith made a noncommittal sound and pushed himself to his feet. “I really don’t think that social etiquette is something we need to really comply with since the world has gone to shit.” 

Ross followed Smith back to the flat, Twat bounded up to Smith as soon as they entered and pressed herself against his leg until he buried his hands in the fur around her neck and gave her a scratch.

Twat whined in response to a groan from the man on the bed as he shifted in his sleep. Smith’s eyes lingered on the bed for a moment before he looked away and threw himself down into a chair at the kitchen table, unfolding the map and laying it out on the surface to study it. 

Ross worried his thumbnail between his teeth as he regarded the other man. If Ross hadn’t just saw it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have been able to tell that the other man had only just managed to pull himself together after what seemed like a very intense breakdown.

As Ross studied him, he noticed the tension still in his shoulders and the way he fisted his short hair in one hand, the other tracing lines on the map with his finger as he muttered under his breath. 

The dark haired man averted his eyes, feeling like an intruder in the room as Smith continued to mumble. 

Smith suddenly got to his feet, striding off to his room and returning moments later with two backpacks that he emptied out on the table, rifling through the contents for a moment before holding one of the empty bags out towards Ross who was still standing in the middle of the room. 

“What’s this for?” 

Smith didn’t look at him as he responded. “We’re going out.” 

Ross took the bag cautiously. “What about Trott?” 

“He’ll be fine.” Smith answered, swinging the other bag onto his shoulders and reaching out to snatch the two baseballs bats from the other bag that was sitting against one of the cupboards.

Ross took the offered bat but protested further. “What if he wakes up?” 

“He won't.” Smith replied in a voice that seemed to render the matter closed. 

Ross gripped the bat tighter. “But, what if he does?” He pressed.

Smith’s eyes met Ross’ with an intensity that made the dark haired man almost flinch. “He won’t.” 

Ross nodded shortly and weighed his options. Trott could wake whilst he and Smith were out, but nothing would be able to get to him as far as Ross could tell. The place Smith had set up was as secure as any base and Ross wasn’t sure that Smith should be outside alone whilst he was obviously so unstable.

“Fine,” Ross conceded. “Where are we going?” 

“Short Stuff is going to need clean clothes and I’m almost out of towels that haven’t been soaked in blood. We need more food, Twat needs something other than processed meat that is mostly water and I really wouldn’t say no to a bottle of whiskey right now.” 

Ross nodded again. “How long is it going to take?” 

Smith shrugged. “Couple of hours, depends if we run into trouble.” 

Ross’ stomach flipped at the thought, he wasn’t ready to face anything else and had a feeling that Smith was itching for another fight from the way he fidgeted with his weapon. 

*********

Twat scouted ahead as Ross and Smith walked side by side down the road towards the cluster of buildings in the distance, tall grass grew unbidden either side of the concrete and swayed slightly in the breeze. 

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Smith piped up after spending the beginning of their journey in a silence that Ross wasn’t sure how to break or even if he should. Smith had seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and Ross was loathed to break him out of them. 

Ross didn’t even pretend to not know what Smith was referring to, even though he wasn’t sure if it was the breakdown or his snapping at Ross after the fact. “Don’t worry about it.” Ross answered. “End of the world is kind of stressful.” He continued, trying to give the other man an out if he needed it.

Smith nodded. “Doesn’t mean I should be taking it out on you though.” 

Ross shrugged, slightly relieved that Smith hadn’t been apologising for the crying and just for being short with Ross. “Like I said, apocalypse – being a bit of a prick once in a while is kind of a given.” 

They both descended into silence for a few more minutes, until Smith cleared his throat gently and slid a sideways glance at the dark haired man. “There’s a few clothes shops around the corner, I’ll go check it out first and signal that it’s safe.” 

Ross’ step faltered slightly. “Shouldn’t we go together? Safety in numbers?” 

“Depends if you’re going to freeze up again.” Smith answered gently, his voice seeming to convey a reluctance to saying the words.

It was a fair comment, but it still sent a pang through Ross’ chest. “I won’t.” He answered, voice strong. 

Smith signalled around the corner, Twat took a few cautious steps forward and sniffed the air, her whole body ridged for a few moments before her tail started to wag and she looked back at the two men. 

“Stay quiet and stick to the walls if you can.” Smith advised in a low voice, meeting Ross’ eyes for a moment.

Ross nodded at him and brought the bat in front of him, gripping it with both hands as they made their way around the corner and along a long brick building. 

**********

“Is that a fucking Super Dry?” Ross hissed, pointing with his bat at one of the shops across the retail park. 

Smith looked up from where he had been trying to pick the lock of the Home Bargains door and followed Ross’ eye line. “Yeah.” He answered, taking in the familiar designs on the huge glass windows.

The taller man went back to picking the lock, crouched down with the leather tool case balanced on his thigh and one of the thin metal prongs held between his lips. Glancing up, he caught Ross starring at the shop across the way with a look almost like longing on his face. Smith smiled at how something as stupid as a brand name in a world where you were lucky to have a change of clothes still meant something to the man with him. 

Ross turned back as Smith zipped the tool kit back up and stood, pushing the door open with one hand and holding it open for him. “After you.” 

The dark haired man smiled and walked through. “Such a gentleman.” 

“I try.” Smith said back, following Ross inside. 

 

Smith wasn’t sure why exactly he had decided to risk walking through the open space to the shop that Ross had been eyeing earlier. It was reckless really. They didn’t need anything from over that side of the park, but knowing it would somehow make Ross happy made him unable to resist. 

The anger from earlier had completely dissipated as he had spent the morning collecting supplies with Ross, and lying to himself that he was still itching for a fight and that was the reason for their foray to Super Dry didn’t really work so he actively stopped thinking about it.

Surprisingly the lock on that door was much easier than on the discount shops they had been in. “You have to show me how you do that.” Ross requested as Smith pushed the door open with a cocky smirk on his face. 

“Talent.” Smith answered. 

Ross rolled his eyes but walked through the door that the other man was once again holding open for him. “I’m sure I’ll pick it up quickly.” 

Smith shrugged. “I’ll make you a deal.” 

Ross dragged his eyes away from the clothes on display to regard the other man. “What kind of deal?” 

Smith leant casually against one of the tables holding folded T shirts. “I’ll teach you how to pick a lock if you explain exactly what is so exciting about this fucking shop.” 

Ross snorted a gentle laugh. “Have you ever had a Super Dry hoodie?” He asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer. 

“A hoodie is a hoodie, mate.” The taller man replied, dismissively. 

Ross closed his eyes and shook his head as if Smith had said the most idiotic thing in the world before striding off further into the shop. 

Smith followed behind, curious. Watching Ross’ face as is danced over the clothes on offer, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he went. 

Ross made a beeline for the backpacks and picked a couple off the rack, pulling the tags off and removing the crumpled cardboard inside. “Green or burgundy?” Ross asked, reaching for a hoodie of each colour off a table. 

Smith didn’t answer verbally, instead walking forward, taking the burgundy one out of Ross’ hand and shoving his bare arms into it before pulling it over his head. 

Ross just stood, his arms folded and a questioning look on his face at the other man. 

Smith would be lying if he was to say that it wasn’t the most comfortable hoodie he had ever put on, the inside was fluffy and silky against his skin and miraculously the arms were actually long enough for him, resting along the edge of his hand rather than half way up his wrist like most long sleeved clothes tended to do. 

“Well?” Ross asked, still watching him. 

“I’ll teach you to lock pick tomorrow.” 

Ross grinned at him, dropping his arms from their position and striding away to collect enough clothes to fill all three empty bags. One for each of them. 

**********  
Their expedition had been a success. They had managed to stock up on everything that Smith had wanted – including a couple of bottles of alcohol from a small pub on the way back to the flat. 

Trott had woken not long after they returned and had managed – with the help of Ross – to go to the bathroom to clean himself up and change into some new clothes. However the effort of something even that small had exhausted him and after drinking half a bottle of water and a few slices of tinned pears he had fallen back to sleep. 

Smith grabbed two glasses out of one of the top cupboards and sat at the table, pulling a bottle of whiskey towards himself and pouring out two generous measures. 

Ross stood from where he had been absentmindedly stroking Twat who was snugged against Trott’s side and went to join Smith at the table. 

As soon as he sat, Smith slid the second glass towards him, lifting his own aloft. “To not being dead.” 

Ross picked up his glass and clinked it gently against the other mans, bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip. It burned as it went down and he almost choked. Smith downed his measure in one go before pouring out some more. 

“You really did want that drink.” Ross commented, taking another small swallow of his whiskey. 

Smith sighed as he screwed the lid back on the bottle. “It’s been a rough six months.” 

“I’ll drink to that.” Ross said, raising his glass and then downing the rest in one go, intending to keep up with the other man.


	13. Wandering minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking and depression really do not mix well.

To say that Ross was drunk would have been a gross understatement. 

The dark haired man was finding it difficult to stay on his seat as the world tipped and turned around him. He didn’t dare risk actually getting up to stand (or god forbid, walk) for fear of what might happen. He may have been drunk, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. 

They had drank the whiskey in silence, both men seemingly lost in their own thoughts as they sipped at the amber liquid before moving onto the bottle of clear vodka. 

Smith made a face when he took a swig of the latter. The vodka burning more intensely than the whiskey had been, causing him to splutter past the first swallow before he became used to the almost clinical taste of the drink. 

“You really care about him.” Smith remarked, breaking not just the silence but also Ross’ unfocused gaze from where it had been resting on Trott’s sleeping form. 

Ross was silent for a beat before he turned back to Smith. “Trott was the first person to ever accept me for who I am.” Ross replied. “It’s kind of hard not to love the little prick for it.” He finished with a lazy grin. 

Smith returned Ross’ smile, but his was tinged with sadness that had Ross tilting his head. 

A question sprang to the front of Ross’ drunken mind. “Why are you alone?” Ross asked. 

It was probably a completely insensitive question but Ross couldn’t help blurting it out at the look on Smith’s face. As soon as he had released the question into the air he regretted it, pure devastation visible in the other man’s features. 

Smith’s face had gone from a rosy cheeked flush from the alcohol to a ghostly pallor in just a few seconds, his eyes darted around the room. It looked like he was searching for an escape and his breathing had sped up. 

After a few beats, Smith wet his lips and answered the question. His voice sounded far away. “Because it’s what I deserve.” 

Ross furrows his brows. “No one deserves to be alone, Smith.” 

Smith let out a huff of bitter amusement through his nose. “Yes. They do.” Smith says, his tone sounded done with the conversation as he poured more vodka into his glass. 

Ross watched him place the half empty bottle back on the table with one hand as he used his other to pick up the glass, downing the liquid in one go and not even seeming to react to the taste or feel of the scorching trail it must have burnt down his throat. 

“Look,” Ross said, trying to keep his voice gentle. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I am sure as fuck not going to believe that you deserve this, Smith.” He continued. “You have been nothing but kind and helpful and pretty fucking heroic since you saved me and Trott. We would have both been dead if you hadn’t had appeared up when you did.” 

Smith tried to brush it off. “That was Twat’s fault.” He said, looking towards the animal in question who was curled up against Trott’s side on the bed. “She heard you or smelt you or something and went running. I just followed.” 

“And it was Twat who killed those fucking infected? Was it Twat who carried Trott over three miles back to a safe place? Did Twat treat Trott’s bite to make sure he wouldn’t turn into one of them?” Ross shot back. “Was it Twat taking me to SuperDry just because I was longingly staring at the shop front like some teenaged fangirl?” 

Smith cracked a slight smile at the last question. “You’re worse than a Belieber.” 

Ross narrowed his brows at Smith, giving him a playful warning look. “Am not.” 

“Are too.” Smith mumbled, the momentary distraction seeming to have faded once his and Ross’ eyes met across the table for a second before Smith broke the contact and looked down at his hands.

Ross wet his lips, trying to decide what to say next as Smith scratched a hand through his already messy hair. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ross asked, pushing his still half full glass of vodka away from himself. 

Smith shook his head. “No.” He answered, also pushing his glass away. “Think I’m just going to go pass out.” He said, hands on the table to help himself stand. 

Ross watched him go, staying seated at the table and cursing himself under his breath once the door to Smith’s room closed behind him. He was sure he was close to getting Smith to open up and had blown it by going in too harshly and then backing off to quickly. 

Ross wished Trott had been awake to help, he was much better at this kind of thing.

**********

Smith staggered into the bedroom, closing the door securely and leaning against the flimsy feeling wood with his neck tipped back, the crown of his head against the painted surface of the door behind him.

What the hell were these people doing to him? He had managed to go months without a breakdown but suddenly these two men had come along and he was ready to break for the second time in one day. 

This was why he liked Twat. Twat didn’t ask questions or demand anything of him except food and the occasional belly rub. 

Not that Smith would have minded giving the dark haired man in the other room a rub. 

His eyes widened for a moment at the wandering of his mind and where it had taken him before his thoughts turned to the past once more. 

Smith span around, hands flat on door and bit his lip. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to collapse against the wall and have Twat curl up half on top of him, licking away the tears coursing down his face, like she had done so many times in their early relationship. But Twat was with Trott. Outside the room, where Ross would still be awake and giving him that pleading look and asking questions that Smith couldn’t answer aloud. 

He had said it enough times in his head. 

He had killed them. All of them. It was his fault. 

He should have done more. He should have done things differently. He should have been more careful. He should have been stronger and faster and smarter and just- more than he was. 

“I should have been better.” He whispered to himself voice cracking whilst scrubbing at his face violently to wipe away the tears. “Should BE better.” He said, voice a little stronger. 

He wanted nothing more in that moment than to do something stupid, to go out and get into a fight or punch something or to run through the streets screaming at the top of his lungs, until he voice broke completely and the infected took him. 

It was no less than he deserved for what he had done. 

*********

Trott woke feeling much too hot. Stirring slightly, stretching his legs out he found he couldn’t really move much. 

It wasn’t due to his weakness – although that was still present, if slightly lessened from the day before – It was because he was sandwiched between two bodies. 

Ross’ arm was lying over Trott’s stomach on top of Trott’s own, Ross’ fingers curled slightly around Trott’s wrist. On Trott’s other side was a mass of black fur, rolled into a ball and snoring softly. 

Trott managed to pry his good arm out from where it was wedged between his side and Twat so that he could brush his too long hair out of his eyes and survey the room. 

He felt different today, the burning in his veins has subsided to a dull ache rather than full blown agony and his breathing felt easier. Cautiously Trott sucked in a slow, deep breath through his nose until his lungs could hold no more. With a relived twitch of a smile on his lips, he let it out just as slowly.

With his free hand, Trott reached down and pried Ross’ fingers from around his wrist and pushed his arm away. Ross grunted in his sleep and turned over as Twat stirred on Trott’s other side. 

Twat uncurled herself and blinked up at Trott, stretching her whole body out for a moment before getting to her feet and standing over him. 

Trott couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as the dog sniffed at his face, her cold, wet nose tickling his skin. “Alright, alright.” Trott whispered, pushing Twat’s face away with his good arm. 

Twat let him push her away for a moment, turning her head and placing a firm lick to the centre of his palm before jumping down off the bed and sitting with her tail wagging, looking up at Trott. 

“I can’t feed you.” The man whispered, using his good arm to hold the injured one against his chest as he used all the strength he could muster to turn his body so his feet could fall to the floor. With a pained grunt, Trott pushed himself into a sitting position with one arm. 

Trott sat for a moment, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts and sweat beading on his forehead from the tiny amount of exertion. 

Seeing she was getting nowhere with Trott, Twat stood from her place by his feet and went towards Smith’s bedroom door where she pawed at the bottom, her nails clacking against the painted wood. 

Trott eyed the space between himself and the bathroom, trying to gauge if he would be able to walk that far before falling over. He didn’t like the thought of having to ask Ross or Smith for help to go take a piss. 

His knees shook as he put weight on them, his legs shaking dangerously as he gritted his teeth and shuffled his left leg forward to take the first step. 

The door to the bedroom creaked open as Trott fell forwards against the sofa with a pained growl of frustration. 

Smith stood in the doorway for a moment, only in his boxers and with a look of annoyance on his face that turned quickly to concern as his eyes moved from Twat, thumping her tail back and forth in front of him and Trott collapsed against the back of the sofa. 

“Fucking hell, mate.” Smith said, rushing forwards towards the other man. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” He asked. “You are not ready to be walking around on your own yet.” 

Trott huffed. “I just wanted to go to the bathroom.” He mumbled. 

Smith ran a hand through his messy bed head and closed the rest of the distance between himself and the smaller man. “Put your good arm around my shoulder.” He instructed, stooping down slightly to the right height. 

Trott did as he was told and slung his arm around the other man’s shoulder as Smith pulled Trott against him with an arm around his waist. 

The awkward shuffle that followed would have probably looked amusing had Trott not been in so much pain during it. His shoulder throbbed with each movement, his ribs ached as he became breathless and sweat ran in lines down his face and off his chin. 

Smith deposited him on the edge of the bath where Trott leant forwards, eyes locked on the pattern of the tiles on the floor as he tried to breathe past the nausea and pounding in his head.

“There’s clean water and towels in the bath. I’ll bring your bag in for you.” Smith muttered, shuffling out of the room for a moment before returning with Trott’s rucksack. 

“Thanks.” Trott managed to pant out around breaths. 

Smith shrugged at him nonchalantly. “Shout if you need anything, I can wake Ross and send him in if you need help.” 

Trott nodded gently, not meeting the other man’s eyes. 

“I’m going to go and make some breakfast.” Smith continued. “You’ll need it for your recovery.” He finished, backing out of the room and pulling the door until it was almost closed, leaving a sliver of room visible to Trott as he sat on the edge of the bath. 

It took almost an hour for Trott to complete what he wanted, an hour in which Ross woke up and asked him almost every five minutes if he was okay and if he needed help. Luckily for Trott, his anger at the other man spurred him on and gave him the motivation and fight he needed to clean himself off and get redressed in clean clothes before having to swallow his pride and ask for help to get back to the bed. 

He managed to stay conscious long enough to eat something before the exhaustion took him once more.


	14. For the greater good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trott is getting better and needs to have a chat with his saviour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the guys of The Wheelie Bin of Shame for all the help with this one :)

The next couple of days passed slowly for Ross.

Trott was still sleeping most of the time. His body needing all the rest it could get to heal. He woke only for an hour or so at a time – just long enough to clean up, eat something and have a short conversation with Ross before sleep would take him again.

Smith was being distant. Not offering conversation freely to the dark haired man and Ross was reluctant to push the other man for more than the one word answers he would get when he did try to talk to him.

Ross spent his time reading. Trying to lose himself in the books that Smith had littered around the flat so that he could stop thinking about Katie and wondering if they would be too late by the time they got up to Scotland.

Smith tended to make himself scarce when Trott would wake, usually using Twat as an excuse to leave the building.

A few more days later and Trott was stronger, being able to walk unaided from place to place in the flat. It still exhausted him but he was getting better.

**********

Ross shook his head as Smith left, letting out a small sigh before taking a sip of his tea and looking at Trott sitting across from him at the table.

Trott raised a questioning brow. “He really isn’t talkative, is he?”

Ross placed his cup back on the table, wrapping both hands around it so the warmth sunk into his palms. “I think that’s my fault.” At Trott’s look, he explained. “We got drunk the day we went and looted those shops.”

Trott smirked. “Ross Stuart Hornby! You filthy fucker! You banged him, didn’t you?” Trott didn’t wait for an answer before carrying on talking, the grin still plastered to his face. “Whilst I was passed out, in horrific pain, you were in the next room sucking some dick and-“ Trott abruptly stopped for a second before more came tumbling out of his mouth. “-you didn’t do it in here whilst I was unconscious, did you?”

Ross waited a beat to ensure Trott had finished his ridiculous rant. “You’re a prick.”

“It’s a perfectly valid explanation as to why he won’t even look at you, yet you keep staring at him.” Trott said. “I know the Hornby crush face mate, you like him.”

Ross sat back in his seat, leaning his chair until only the back two legs were in contact with the ground. There wasn’t any point lying to his best friend, he knew him too well. “That’s completely irrelevant.” He said. “Look, we got drunk and we got talking. I asked him about why he was alone and he just-“ Ross paused, trying to find the right words. “-It wasn’t good.” He finished lamely. “Then he pretty much completely shut down and went to bed. He’s been barely speaking two words together since.”

“Tactful.” Trott commented, reaching out and picking up his own cup.

Ross rocked back and forth slightly, the legs of the chair occasionally making quiet ‘clunks’ against the floor. “I’m worried that once you get better and we have to leave that he is going to do something stupid and get himself killed.”

Trott regarded his friend for a moment. Whilst it was true that Ross didn’t have the best social skills in the world, he was a good judge of character and motives. “You think he’s suicidal?” Trott interpreted from the way Ross had worded it.

“He hates himself, Trott. I think the only reason he has survived this long is because he can fight and when it comes down to it, his survival instinct kicks in.” Ross explained. “Before I put my foot in it about stuff, we were talking about other times he had been in fights and most of them start out with ‘I was bored’ or ‘I wanted some totally unnecessary thing’. He looks for trouble.”

“Death wish?”

Ross shrugged. “I don’t know. Something horrible happened and he thinks it’s his fault and he is having a hard time dealing with it for sure.”

Trott used his uninjured hand to swipe his hair out of his face. “What do you suggest we do? We can’t stay here, we need to get moving as soon as I’m well enough.”

Ross shrugged. “Maybe we can get him to come with us?”

“And by we-“ Trott started.

“-Yeah. I mean you.” Ross confirmed before Trott could finish the sentence.

Trott downed the rest of his drink. “Fine, but you can’t be here when I talk to him.”

Ross let his chair fall back onto all four legs. “Why?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“There’s some stuff I want to talk to him about.” Trott said with a shrug of his own. At Ross’ challenging look he elaborated slightly. “Things about the infection, you don’t need to know about it.”

Ross was never sure if he should be offended that Trott always tried to protect him or if he should be happy for it, ultimately he opted to try for the latter as any time he had found out about Trott’s activities after the fact he had always wished he didn’t know.

*********

“I’m going to go and see if I can find anything useful in the flats upstairs.” Ross announced, slipping his feet into his shoes and standing from his seat next to Trott on the sofa.

Ross and Trott shared a look for a moment, the shorter man offering a small jerk of the head in approval.

Smith looked up from where he was once again fiddling with his lock picking paraphernalia. “Take Twat with you.” He said before letting out a sharp whistle to wake the sleeping dog by his feet.

Twat got to her feet slowly, stretching her front paws out and yawning before looking at Smith in question.

Smith inclined his head towards the dark haired man. “Go with Ross and keep him out of trouble.” He said before dropping his attention back to the lock in front of him.

Ross slapped a hand on his outer thigh. “Come on, girl. Maybe we’ll find you a ball or something.” He said, turning on his heel and leaving through the front door with Twat in tow.

 

Trott waited few a few minutes, trying to see if the absence of the other man would prompt Smith to try and make conversation.

Apparently not.

Trott awkwardly pushed himself to his feet with his one good arm and walked over to the table to sit opposite the other man.

As Trott sat, Smith’s eyes flicked up to him and then back down but he still didn’t say anything.

Trott scratched at the stubble on his cheek with a sigh. “I need to talk to you.” 

Smith didn’t look up as he spoke. “What about?” 

The shorter man considered for a moment, not sure what he should lead with. “I want to thank you for making sure Ross was okay whilst I was out.”

Smith looked up in confusion. “No thank you for saving your life?” He asked.

Trott snorted in amusement. “I think we both know that at the time I was anything but grateful.” He said flicking his eyes to the bite mark on Smith’s exposed forearm. 

Smith nodded gently but didn’t offer anything further. 

“Was it as bad when it happened to you?” Trott asked, knowing that it was probably a horrific question to ask but needing to know the answer. 

Smith instinctively rubbed at his own scar. “Yes.” He answered. 

Trott shifted in his seat, weighing up the options in his head on how to get Smith talking. He opted for pushing it. “You don't want to talk about this?” He prodded. 

“Not really, no.” Smith replied, keeping his eyes on the table. 

“Tough shit, Sunshine.” The smaller man said. 

Smith pushed back from the table and stood. “I can still kick you out.” 

“But you won’t.” Trott shot back. 

Smith spun around to face the other man. “And why is that?” 

“Because out there Ross and I would be completely defenceless and something tells me you don't need any more deaths on your conscience.” 

Smith raised an eyebrow in challenge, trying for a nonchalance but failing miserably. “What’s two more? Makes it a nice round number.” 

Trott rolled his eyes. “You didn’t seem so relaxed about this when you were whispering confessions and apologies to me and soaking me in your tears, mate.” 

Smith took a deep breath through his nose and grit his teeth for a few seconds, staring Trott down but the smaller man didn’t look away, he simply quirked an eyebrow. “How about we talk about you begging me to kill you instead?” Smith said, folding his arms across his chest. 

Trott shrugged. “Sure.” He answered. “It hurt worse than anything I have ever experienced and I wanted it to stop, nothing terribly complex about it.” He said. “What I want to know is how safe Ross is here with you when I’m out of it since you are so convinced you are some kind of monster.” 

Smith hadn’t been expecting something so direct to come out of the other man’s mouth, his heart skipping a beat at the insinuation that he would kill Ross. 

When Smith didn’t answer, Trott continued. “So, I would like you to tell me exactly why you think you are a murderer and we can go from there.” 

“I don't want to talk about it.” Smith shot back, his voice firm. 

Trott clicked his tongue. “Can you guarantee that you aren’t going to try and kill any of us? Including yourself.” 

Smith wet his lips, still standing in front of the seated man. “You think I want to die?” 

It seemed like Trott already knew what the other man would say as he answered the question without hesitation. “I don’t think you are trying very hard to stay alive.” He watched Smith’s face for any kind of reaction but his expression remained unchanged. “SIt down.” Trott ordered, his voice brooking no argument. 

Smith followed the direction and fell back into the chair he had previously occupied. 

“I don't give a shit about what you have or haven’t done, Smith.” He started. “What I am concerned about is if you are going to get the three of us into trouble by being reckless whilst you are clearly fucking depressed.” 

“Why don't you and Ross just move into one of the other flat then?” Smith spat. “Once you’re better you’re both going to go fucking rushing off to Scotland anyway, right?” 

Trott had to resist smiling as his words were having the desired effect. “Come with us.” 

“What?” 

“You’ve said it yourself, mate. Ross and I won’t survive ten miles out there alone. We don’t have a fucking clue what we are doing and it will get both of us dead one way or another.” 

Smith snorted. “Get all three of us killed instead?” 

Trott shrugged. “You’re the one who doesn’t care if you live or not, what’s the difference if it’s out there with us or here, alone?” 

Smith pressed his lips together into a thin line. “You’re trying to guilt me into this.” 

Trott nodded, looking the other man right in the eye. “Ross doesn’t want to leave you here when we go and if I have to use every cutting word I can to get you to agree to come, then I will.” Trott confirmed. “I could tell you how much safer we will be with someone who can fight with us, how we might even make it as far as Scotland with Twat helping to scout ahead or I could tell you how much pain Ross would be in, if we had to leave you behind.” 

“You keep bringing Ross into this?” Smith questioned, trying to gauge Trott’s motives. 

Trott nodded. “He’s been through enough in his life already, any pain I can spare him, I will.” He said. “That’s why I begged you to kill me, I didn’t want him to have to if I turned.” 

Smith rubbed at the scar on his arm. “Yeah.” He said. “That would have sucked.” There was a bitter edge to his voice and Trott wanted to question further, his own curiosity peaking at Smith’s answer and accompanying body language but he held back, conscious of the fact that Ross had been gone a while and could be back any time. “When it’s time.” Smith started in a quiet voice. “I’ll come with you.”


	15. Butting heads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one gets on well right away. Sometimes it takes a bit of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to the wheelie bin for being there to prod me onwards with his. especially Smith. you rock dude :P

It was another week before Trott was well enough to be up and about for more than an hour at a time and he was biting at the bit for them all to just get a move on. 

Ross and Smith were blocking his protests with logic that prayed on the other man's fears and it was starting to wear pretty thin. The shortest of the three men was constantly nursing a short temper. His self-imposed mission to find Katie was much too important to be put off for any longer. 

Dreams plagued him, flicking between real memories of the infection and horrible imaginings of what could be happening to the woman he loved. More often than not he was woken after an hour or so by Ross, Twat or simply himself sitting bolt upright and covered in a cold sweat because of the dreams. 

The lack of sleep did nothing for his shortened fuse. 

"Look, Short Stuff." Smith said, giving him a look that was worthy of more than one slap, in Trott’s opinion. "If we go now and run into trouble then we're fucked. You can't run or fight yet, give it another week to build yourself up and we can go." 

Trott ground his teeth. "I thought you said we wouldn’t be running into any trouble with your mutt around to scout ahead?" 

Smith met his eyes and Trott flinched under the harsh, coldness of the look. "I said that she would help and give us an early warning." Smith snapped. "But unless you can run, and do it quietly then it doesn’t matter if we know what's coming or not." 

Trott scoffed with an exhale of breath. "Another week? Or more? Because you said the same two weeks ago, Sunshine." He spat. "I'm starting to think that you just don’t want to leave your cozy little setup you have here." 

Smith laughed at him, it was void of humor and sounded almost brittle in the quiet room. "I cannot win with you, can I?" He asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing. "You told me to keep Ross safe but what you are proposing is going to get us all killed." Smith said, standing from his seat. "So unless you want to go alone, then I suggest that you concentrate on getting stronger and not waste energy on being a little bitch." 

Trott watched as Smith stormed out of the room and through the front door, slamming it behind him. Sighing, the shorter man pushed his too long fringe out of his eyes by running his fingers through it before leaning forward to rest his head in his hands and having it fall right back where it had been. 

He felt, more than saw Ross enter the room from where he had been in the bathroom. "It's so nice that we can all get along." Ross deadpanned as he slid into the chair opposite Trott. 

Trott merely tilted his chin to give his friend a dark look through his hair.

**********

Smith didn’t even realise he had the bat in his hand until he was on the last flight of stairs. The cool metal turning warm in his bare hand. He didn’t hesitate to flick the lock on the front door and head out onto the street, pushing his anger down into the pit of his stomach.

His stride didn’t waver as he smacked the metal bat off every surface he passed by, the hollow ‘thunk’ of the bat ringing in the silence of the world. He used it like a siren, calling them to him as he pressed onwards. 

The fence gave way to a few two handed strikes of the weapon, his booted feet kicking aside any remaining boards that barred his way into the large, open field. 

The grass underfoot was sloppy with mud, the rivers rise and flow saturating the land to squelch and grip at feet as it was crossed. 

He could hear them coming, his noisy exit and walk over having attracted any infected within hearing range. The rattles of their breathing licked at the edge of his conscious mind as he placed the bat on top of the large, white platform before pulling himself the five feet needed to climb on top. 

His muddy boots left streaks of brown on the metal and he scuffed the soles of his shoes to ensure they still had purchase on the smooth surface.

Transferring the bat from one hand to the other, he flicked his eyes around the field and counted them, a lift of his lips that could have been a smile or grimace marring his features for a moment. 

The bat slid in his palm as he took the first swing, the infected fell back into a couple of its companions and Smith turned on the spot, using the momentum to hit out at another that had managed to clamber onto the platform with him. 

His boots connected with a skull as he kicked out, slipping slightly on the smooth metal of the box. With a crash he fell forwards, throwing his hands out to catch himself. 

The infected converged, the noises being pushed from their throats getting louder and sounding almost like victory. 

Hands grasped at him, nails like knives cutting into the exposed skin of his arms as he flailed. 

This was what he had wanted. His heart pounding as adrenaline pumped through his veins, breathing ragged and chest heaving with the effort of fighting off the numerous enemies. 

With a roar, he rolled to the side and off the box landing five feet below in the mud on his back with the bat still tightly grasped in his right hand. 

He scrambled to his feet, insults shouted from behind gritted teeth as he moved. 

“Come on, you undead pieces of shit. I can do this all day.” He taunted with a grin.

No one in the bases had ever really deciphered if the infected could comprehend speech after they had been taken over but it wasn’t really ever anything Smith himself had contemplated until every set of eyes from the infected around him found his before they redoubled their efforts to attack. 

He froze. 

The first was upon him before he had a chance to even take a breath, leaping at him with a snarl and causing him to backpedal wildly as he tried to keep to his feet on the slick grass. 

He swung wildly in an arch, catching some on the head and others on the torso but it wasn’t enough. 

The fight had attracted more of them, the field a veritable mass of bodies all vying to end him. 

The adrenaline wavered, he had been out too long and tiredness swept through him as he tried to stay afloat and keep them at bay. 

His swings were instinctual as his mind stopped seeing what was in front of him and instead his vision was replaced with flashes of other fights. Screams of friends and children and his own voice echoed in his head as he caved in skull after skull. 

**********

The whole place was overrun. Smoke billowed from windows where they had tried to control the hoard, pushing them down wide thoroughfares where they could be more easily confronted by the soldiers. 

Gunshots rang through the air as the men in camo held the line to protect the assembled people behind the barricade that had been hastily erected to cut one side of the base off from the other. 

 

They ran, the fire seeming to be chasing them as building after building caught and started to burn. 

Lewis led the group, running at their head with Mark as the others followed. Smith kept to the back, a rusty pipe clutched in his hands that he had picked up somewhere around the fountain as they had swept past to avoid hitting the bulk of the hoard.

Tom kept to Smith’s side, armed with a machete as they traversed the street with the others. 

Children cried out to be hushed by scared mothers and other terrified members of the group. They past piles of bodies as they went. Some of their number losing the meagre contents of their stomachs at the sight. Others split off to try and dig through the bodies only to be pulled away by the group, screaming for the dead. 

Lewis managed to lead them through the winding gaps between buildings and out towards the fence that towered around half of the city. The way back to the rest of the people still in the city barred by debris and flame. 

It wasn’t really a choice when Lewis suggested they break through and try to meet up with the others by circling from the outside. 

 

Smith’s first kill came that night. Amidst flames and ash. They had lost the base. That much was obvious - even before the last of the soldiers went down. Many were forced to make a choice that night, take up arms and fight or be dragged, kicking and screaming into the mass of infected to be ripped to shreds. 

“Go!” Tom had screamed, slashing with his machete at the infected who had backed him into a corner, his eyes finding Smith through a break in their ranks. “Get the fuck out, Alex. Now!” 

Smith shook his head at his friend, hand tightening around the bar. He ran forwards. 

The infected parted before him as he swung again and again, putting all his strength behind each attack to get to Tom who seemed to get a second wind witnessing his friend coming to his rescue. 

*********

“Don't fucking look at me like that, Trott. You were being a prick and you know it.” Ross scolded watching as his friend sat back in his seat. 

Trott wet his lips and let out a sigh. “He was being a cunt.” Trott tried to defend, the flat quality of his voice unconvincing even to his own ears. 

“And you weren’t?” Ross asked, eyebrow raised. 

Trott avoided Ross’ eye and stood from his seat. “He rubs me the wrong way.” Trott admitted. 

Ross let a snorted breath out through his nose. “Maybe you should ask him to rub you the right way?” He joked. 

It had the desired effect, Trott cracked a smile and bowed his head. “We need to get to Katie.” He reminded, making it sound like a defense for his outburst at their host. 

“I know.” Ross agreed. “But he is right. We can’t leave until you are ready for it, Katie will kick my arse if you get killed on the way to get her and I would like to avoid that.” 

Trott smiled again. “Yeah, she would.” 

Ross stood and made his way over to his shorter friend, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close for a second. “Just one more week and you’ll be back doing judo flips and caving in skulls.” 

“Karate, Ross. Not judo.” 

Ross shrugged. “Whatever. Point is we can go back to you keeping me from being mauled and we can get moving towards Scotland.” 

Trott nodded and stepped away from the dark haired man. “You’re going to make me apologise aren’t you?” 

“I live to see you suffer.” Ross said with a smile. 

Trott flipped him the bird as he turned to make his way towards the kitchen, his leg raised to take the first step but instead he put it back down in place, eyes widening as something outside caught his eye. “Ross?” 

“No.” Ross replied his voice still jovial. “You lost your chance at cuddles, I am not coming over there to give you more.” 

Trott reached blindly behind him, taking a few steps until he had the other man’s wrist in his grasp, not taking his eyes off the scene out of the window. “You need to get Twat and get outside.” 

Ross was in the midst of opening his mouth to retort with something colourful when his eyes locked on movement in the field below where a barely visible Smith was surrounded by infected.


	16. Times gone by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross to the rescue!

Ross practically flew down the stairs, his feet only seeming to connect with every fourth or fifth step as he wound down the building as fast as he could with Twat hot on his heels.

Twat ran out of the door as soon as Ross had it open, almost dropping the cricket back that he had tucked under his arm as he fumbled with the heavy lock on the front door to the flats. 

Ross could hear Twat barking and snarling over the sound of the infected as he ran. Her black fur shining in the sunlight as she tore into the infected surrounding her master, blood dripping from her exposed teeth making her appear much more like a dangerous predator than her usual happy countenance. 

Ross pulled the bat back to swing, both hands gripping the handle. He spun in a tight circle, hitting as many of the surrounding infected as he could. Loud cracks punctuated the air as the thick wood connected with skulls and upraised arms. 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Ross fought, scrambling over the slick grass and slipping more than once to connect bodily with infected and the ground alike until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Smith.

*********

The base was gone. 

Half of it was burnt to a crisp, the rest wasn’t a home anymore. It was a graveyard – more than that. It was a haunted graveyard where the people still walked, glassy eyed and dead through the streets. The infected had this place, they had enough meat to last them for weeks or even months from those who had fell and weren’t likely to leave until they had ate every last morsel. 

The small group who had escaped from the other side of town where in shock. The army hadn’t been able to hold the hoard back and it had swept through their safe places and desecrated everything with extreme violence until everything was blood soaked and full of horrors. 

They decided to travel, the base wasn’t an option anymore and many of their number wanted to leave to find any surviving family by making it to the Bristol base just over the Welsh boarder. 

“The more of us that stay together, the better. We have safety in numbers.” Lewis argued. No one really knew who had appointed him their leader but no one else was volunteering for the job and the dark haired man had proved himself capable when he had led them out of the base. 

One of the older members of the group spoke up. “And then what? Another base?” The man shook his head. “No. I’ll come with you to the boarder but once we hit England I’m heading north to find my family. I won’t be a sitting duck a second time.” 

Lewis sighed. “We can talk about that once we get near Bristol.” He attested, hoping he would be able to convince those agreeing with the man that it was a bad idea in the time it would take them to get to the new base. 

Tom sidled up to stand next to Smith. “What do you think?” He asked, voice low. 

Smith flicked his eyes over his best friend and noted the way he studied Lewis. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “Lewis is right that strength in numbers is a good thing but I’m not sure that going right back into another base would be good either.” 

Tom scratched at his beard for a moment. “Then I guess we go along with them and decide what we are going to do once we get closer.” 

 

The group took turns on watch that first night. Smith sat out front of the house they had all decided to camp out in, his hands cupped in front of his face to blow warm air on them in the frigid wind as he past Tom on his way back in from his own watch. 

“Here.” Tom said, raising a hand to his head and pulling his ever present beanie off to reveal a mop of messy brown hair. He held the grey woollen hat out to Smith. 

Smith raised an eyebrow but took the beanie and pulled it on and down to cover his ears from the cold. “Thanks, man.” 

“I want it back in the morning.” Tom informed, fluffing his hair with one hand which just made it even more untidy. 

**********

Trott stayed near the window, casting his eyes around the room frantically to try and locate the binoculars that he had seen Smith using to survey the area more than once. He found them half buried under a pile of blankets on one of the dining chairs and immediately held them up to his face. 

Even with the extra help, it was hard to discern what exactly was happening in the field. It was a mass of bodies all writhing in on each other. Occasionally Trott would see Twat flashing between limbs or taking down a body, her different shape and block colouring making it easier to spot her amongst the crowd. 

He felt so helpless, standing safe in the flat whilst Ross was out there trying to save Smith. 

Smith who wouldn’t be in this situation if Trott hadn’t been such a prick and pushed his buttons until the other man snapped. 

The wait was torturous, but after a while the infected thinned as Ross, Twat and Smith kept attacking. Trott wasn’t sure if this was any better as it afforded him a better view of all the near misses that had his stomach clenching in fear and his hand mussing his hair as he pulled at it in exasperation. 

Trott spun around as soon as he saw Ross grabbing at Smith and running for the flats, Twat stayed back to try and stop the infected following the two men, taking down any that slipped past her with her jaws clamped around their legs. 

He made it to the second floor before Smith’s earlier warning that he wasn’t ready to be active came to fruition. His left foot slid on a stair and the momentum flung him forwards. Trott extended his arms in front of him to stop his face connecting with the wall, his newly healed shoulder erupting into intense stabbing pain that left his arm tingling and throbbing once he was on the move again, each step jarring it. 

Trott flung the front door open and shouted out for the two men to hurry, six infected still on their tail only twenty feet or so away. Twat’s barking drowned any further shouts that Trott made as she leapt for the leading infected who was closing the gap between herself and the two men. 

Ross skidded to a stop in the hallway, bending at the waist with his hands on his knees to catch his breath as Smith leant his back against the wall and slid to the floor with his eyes focused on the middle distance. 

Trott let out a whistle between his teeth, calling for the dog still outside and slamming the door shut as soon as she ran through the threshold and over to Smith slumped on the floor. 

**********

It took the group just over five days to make it to the bridge that would take them over to England. They had managed to avoid populated areas until nearing the town and so had missed running into any overly large groups of infected. 

As they travelled, the tension ebbed slightly and conversations started. Lewis was still heading the group and called a halt for the evening before they would tackle the bridge once the sun set, reasoning that they could slip over the bridge unnoticed in the darkness. 

Rather than heading for the housing estate to the north of the road, the group headed south towards the industrial area. Experience showed that staying away from residential areas was always a good idea. 

The group huddled in different areas of the warehouse, friends sticking close to friends and the families keeping together whilst they settled down to rest and wait for the sun to go down. 

Smith threw his pack down and sank to the floor, lying on his back and using the bag as a pillow with his arms raised above his head and his knees bent so he could place his feet flat on the floor. He watched as his best friend approached the leader of their group. Smith smiled to himself as Tom stood talking to the dark haired man, his body language screaming nerves to Smith but seeming to go unnoticed by the rest of the people around them, Lewis included. 

**********

Smith was completely unresponsive to both Ross and Trott as they tried to get his attention. He sat against the wall, staring at nothing with eyes full of tears that never fell. 

Trott looked to Ross with a helpless expression, unsure what exactly they should do next as the infected outside battered at the large door causing loud metallic booms to echo through the bare hallway where they lingered. 

Ross handed his and Smith’s weapons to the smaller man so he could use both hands to pull Smith to stand. 

The taller man rose at Ross’ insistence, his expression somewhere between blatant agony and complete blankness. “Come on, Smith. Let’s get you upstairs.” Ross prodded just above a whisper as his one arm wound around Smith’s waist, the other pulled one of Smith’s arms around Ross’ shoulder before interlocking their fingers and giving Smith’s hand a squeeze. 

Smith’s hand stayed limp but he didn’t pull away from the dark haired man and he shuffled his feet along with Ross’ as they made their way to the stairs with Trott trailing after them, Twat at his side. 

Ross had to rest when they reached the third floor, pausing with Smith’s arm still around his shoulder as he murmured softly to the man next to him. 

Trott past the two men. “I’ll go make some tea ready for when you get back.” He said, not looking at either man as he went, his head bowed in guilt. 

“Thanks, Trott.” Ross replied gently. He knew that Trott had never wanted this to happen and couldn’t hold the situation against him, he hoped Smith wouldn’t either once he came back to the present. 

**********

Tom and Lewis where about as subtle as five year olds as far as Smith was concerned. They had been spending so much time on watch together or disappearing to ‘scout ahead’ since they had all fled from the base, still Smith didn’t say anything in fear of ruining his best friends happiness in a world where it was so hard to come by.

“Hey, look what I found in the office.” Tom said pulling out a blocky piece of plastic bigger than his hand. 

Before Smith could open his mouth to either ask what it was or protest Tom had thrown an arm around his shoulder, held the object at arm’s length and clicked the red button blinding them both with the bright flash. 

Tom laughed as he pulled at the glossy paper protruding from the front of the camera and shook it vigorously before looking at the image.

“How the fuck do you manage to still look so good without knowing what was coming?” Tom asked. 

The picture was a little overexposed, the light grey wall behind both of them reflecting the flash. Smith had been in the midst of raising both his eyebrows as Tom tilted his head with his mouth open in a grin. Smith took the picture from his friend’s hand. “I’m keeping this one.” He informed the other man. 

“What? I found the camera, all pictures are mine.” He protested, folding his arms across his chest. 

Smith met Tom’s eye and offered him a lopsided smile. “You can keep all the ones you take of you and Lewis.” 

Tom’s mouth opened to retort but he thought better of it when he saw the look in his best friend’s eye. “Fuck off, Alex.” He muttered, trying to hide his smile and hitting Smith in the shoulder as he walked away, making a beeline right for Lewis on the other side of the room. 

**********

Ross and Smith made it to the door to the flat to find it open, Trott was placing cups on the table as they entered. 

“Get the door.” Ross instructed, tilting his chin towards Smith’s room. 

Trott darted to the door and pushed it open, taking a step inside to make sure Ross had somewhere to place Smith and froze. 

On one wall was a cork board that was covered from corner to corner in pictures. Trott took another step closer to the board as a low rasp came from just outside the door.

Trott turned in time to see Smith detach himself from Ross and stagger forward. “Get out of there.” 

Trott’s eyes widened as Smith got closer, the shorter man held both his hands up to show he meant no harm and backed towards the empty wall to his left. “I haven’t touched anything.” He said quickly. 

Ross watched from the door, not stepping into the room but running his eyes over the images that held the other men’s attentions. 

Most pictures where of one of two men or both of them. One of the men had light brown hair that was always poking out the bottom of a beanie and a beard covering his face, the hair only seeming to be broken up by his glasses. Often he was smiling, crinkles around his eyes showing they were real smiles and not just for the show of the camera. The other man was shorter and with much darker hair, he was never in a picture alone – always with the other man or with both the other man and Smith. The rest of the pictures where of Smith with the first man or of other people that never seemed to appear more than once in the strange collage. 

Smith’s hand reached out to the pictures but he held back from actually making contact, almost caressing the air in front of them with a look of absolute devastation on his face. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered before backing up and sitting on the end of the bed a foot or so behind him and burying his head in his hands. Twat entered the room, coming to sit between her master’s legs and pushing her nose against his hands until he relented and cupped her head, pushing his face against her fur


	17. The short straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith recalls some things for Ross

“Smith?” Trott’s voice was quiet as he spoke. “I’m sorry. For everything I did and said.” He paused a second, observing the other man still hunched over the dog. “I was frustrated and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Ross observed both men from the doorway. Trott’s face was drawn and pale, focused on the man sitting on the end of the bed for a few moments after his apology.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Trott finally said, shuffling out of the room past Ross who moved inside to let him through. 

Ross’ eyes met his friends as he went and Trott gave him a small nod of encouragement. Ross stood just inside the room for a few moments before the sounds of Trott moving around in the kitchen had Twat going to investigate what he was up to. 

Ross used the animal’s absence as a sign and pushed the door gently until it clicked closed and he was alone in the room with Smith. 

The man in question lifted his head from its bent position and stared ahead at the wall of images with his hands tangled together in front of him. 

Ross cleared his throat to ensure that Smith knew he was still in the room. The lack of response urged him to move forward and sit on the edge of the bed next to Smith and mirror his posture and study the pictures. “You all look so happy.”

Smith took a shaky breath before answering. “Yeah, we tried to be.” He answered. “Lewis always said that there was so much wrong with what was going on around us that we needed to find happiness wherever we could.” He huffed in amusement. “I always told him that he picked the wrong guys as friends if he was after rainbows and sunshine.” He continued.

“They’re gone?”

Smith nodded and leant forwards with his elbows resting on his knees, turning his head he looked at Ross for the first time since he had come into the room. “We were in the Swansea base when it got overrun.” 

Ross’ eyebrows rose. “Is that how you-?” He asked, gesturing to Smith’s arm where his bite was clearly visible. 

“No.” He answered. “A group of us managed to escape out the back of the base, thanks to Lewis.” He said pointing at the board as he stood to indicate which of the men Lewis was. “He made sure we made it out and led us across to the boarder without much trouble.” Smith explained. “Tom found the camera in an office at this warehouse where we camped out for day before crossing the bridge into England.” 

A gentle knock at the door stopped Smith talking further. Ross stood, opened the door and silently took the two cups of steaming tea from Trott pushing the door shut with his foot after offering his smaller friend a sad smile. 

Ross pressed the mug into Smith’s hand without a word then pointed to another person in the images. “Who’s that?” 

Smith took a deep breath and placed his mug down, sitting to undo and take off his boots so he didn’t have to look at Ross as he answered him. “Tom.” The word was flat but Smith’s face betrayed the nonchalance with which he had said it. 

Ross nodded gently and kicked his own shoes off so he could sit with his back against the wall on the bed with his legs stretched in front of him across the mattress. He didn’t speak, letting Smith gather himself. 

The taller man finally freed himself of his boots and flicked his eyes over where Ross was sitting on his bed. Ross motioned to the space next to him and Smith took the invitation, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the other man after collecting his drink. 

**********

The sun had been set around an hour when Lewis sent a couple of people off to climb the warehouse to check if they could see any infected on the bridge before them. Within ten minutes they were back and reporting that they hadn’t seen any movement on the bridge. 

The group filed out of the building in silence, trying to be as quick as possible without making noise and moved onto the bridge within minutes. 

Lewis and Tom where up front, both with weapons held across their chests ready to swing and strike if the situation turned sour. 

The bridge was littered with abandoned vehicles that were obviously broken, barricades and cones where set up where the military had tried to control the traffic. Smith guessed that people simply left their vehicles in favour of being stuck on the bridge for who knew how long. 

Smith was stationed at the back of the group, his pipe held dangling from one hand as he followed the others, Mark was beside him with a golf club casually leant against his shoulder. 

There was no warning when the attack happened. One moment it was silent and the next the night was filled with scared screams and the sounds of people fighting for their lives. 

*********

Smith rubbed at the scar on his arm. “I ran towards the front as soon as the attack started. Lewis was shouting for everyone to group up and protect each other but I just ran right for Tom.” Smith’s voice had almost gone into a whisper and Ross leant closer so he could hear him. “Once I got to him we moved together to take down as many of the infected as we could. He made sure we stayed near Lewis.” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “I don’t even know how or when I got bitten, one minute I’m fighting and there isn’t any infected within a few feet of me and the next thing I know Tom is dragging me off the bridge towards some houses and it felt like my whole body was on fire from the inside.” 

Ross didn’t prod for more but Smith carried on, seeming lost in the memories. His voice stronger the more he spoke. 

“I don’t remember much past the pain. It was indescribable and I begged them to kill me over and over, but they didn’t.” He recalled now more scratching at, than rubbing the scar. “Tom stayed with me and held me when I thrashed and he consoled me when he thought I couldn’t hear him. He made it so that sometimes, during the screaming agony, I didn’t want to die.” 

Ross extended his arm and captured Smith’s hand, his fingers wrapped around Smith’s to cease his movements. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

“No less than what I deserve.” 

Ross wet his lips and pressed them together for a moment, still holding Smith’s hand he squeezed slightly. “I don’t believe that.” 

Smith looked at him, their eyes meeting as he seemed to be searching for any untruth there. “The story isn’t finished yet.” 

“You want to keep going?” Ross asked, not sure which answer he would prefer. 

Smith pulled his hand away from Ross and scooted forwards on the bed so he could lay back and not have to look at the pictures on the wall. “As I was getting better everyone was debating what to do. Tom tried to keep me from hearing about it but I caught bits and pieces. In the end the group split and most of them went north. Only nine of us kept going to Bristol as Lewis had originally said.” 

“How long did it take you to get to Bristol?” Ross prodded, when Smith had been silent for more than a minute. 

“We never made it to Bristol.” The other man answered. 

Ross placed his empty mug on the floor next to the bed and lay down next to Smith. “Why?” He asked. 

**********  
Mark had been injured only an hour or so after they had split from the others, a badly executed jump over a fence having twisted his ankle. It was getting dark and they had to make the decision to backtrack to the nearest building an hour or so back down the road or to carry on and hope there was one further up the road they were walking on. 

They decided on the latter and had been taking it in turns to be a crutch for Mark as they slowly made their way down the uneven dirt road. 

Smith supposed that they should have been wearier as they had entered the building, but they were tired, cold and hungry and so barrelled into the entryway without much thought past the need to rest. 

********

Ross shifted his position to lie on his side, propping his head up on his arm so he could watch Smith as he talked. 

“We knew it was only a few hours to Bristol but we didn’t want to push Mark and have him unable to run if he needed to so we found the closest building and barrelled right in.” Smith sighed. “It was like a massacre had happened in there.” He said. “Probably was.” He added. “It had been a children’s home, there were bodies everywhere. In one room you couldn’t tell what colour the carpet was supposed to be it was covered in so much blood.” 

“It sounds horrible.” Ross agreed. 

“Not as horrible as the sound of caving in the infected children’s heads.” Smith sniffed and rubbed at his nose. “We found one of them still alive.” 

Ross failed to hide his sharp intake of breath and Smith met his eyes for a fraction of a second before looking away. 

“Must have been about ten or eleven, hadn’t eaten in a while and was dehydrated.” Smith ran his hand upwards and tangled it in his hair, forming a fist before releasing. “He had been bitten but he was coherent. Said he couldn’t feel the pain of the infection.” 

“How is that possible?” Ross asked. “Does it work differently in children?” 

Smith shook his head. “No. The kid had fallen down some narrow back stairs as he ran from the infected. He had managed to shut the door so they couldn’t get to him as he went but he did something to his spine, he couldn’t move his arms or legs so we guessed he had severed the nerves or something and couldn’t feel the pain.” 

“What did you do?” 

Smith wouldn’t meet his gaze as he answered with a question. “What could we do?” After a beat, he answered himself. “The kid was paralysed, if he survived the infection that wouldn’t change and we would have to somehow carry him around until we got to the base.” Ross heard Smith’s breath hitch as he carried on talking. “We- we drew straws.” 

Smith closed his eyes and he whispered the rest, his voice cracking. “He couldn’t struggle because he couldn’t move, so it was much easier than I thought it would be. I think that made it worse.” 

Ross was horrified by the information but he didn’t hesitate to pull Smith closer and stroke at his hair like a mother consoling a child. Nonsense noises spilled from Ross as Smith clutched as his shirt. 

It was at least half an hour until Smith pushed himself away from Ross and scrubbed at his face. “Sorry.” He muttered, his red rimmed eyes meeting Ross’ as he sat up. 

Ross shook his head and also sat up. “You don’t need to-“ 

“I do.” Smith insisted. “I’m a child killer and I should have told you sooner. I understand if you want to leave.” 

“He wouldn’t have survived the infection.” Ross said, his voice strong and sure. “He wouldn’t have had the strength to fight it off.” 

Smith shrugged. “Maybe.” 

Ross took the other man’s hand where it was resting on the bed next to him. “There’s no maybe about it.” He asserted. “You said yourself that he was half starved and dehydrated.” 

“There’s more.” Smith said, still holding onto Ross’ hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did think I would get Smith's whole back story out in this chapter but alas, I have not. 
> 
> More horrible to come for Smith next time - soz


	18. 'I would do it for you'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith finally gets to the end of his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take this opportunity to tell my friends that I love them and if Han kills me, then I probably deserved it. Do not avenge me - I brought this on myself.

“Once Mark’s leg was better it only took a day to get to the outskirts of Bristol.” Smith said, once again training his eyes on the wall of pictures. “The whole area was overrun with infected, we managed to sneak into a house without being noticed but then it was like we were trapped.” 

**********

It was so cold all the time. Breath hung in the air whenever they were outside and it made going out much more dangerous. The days where short and no one wanted to travel during the night in fear of being ambushed. Not that they particularly wanted to go out during the day either. There was no respite from the infected – they were everywhere. 

All pretence had been lost, Tom and Lewis spent their nights tangled together in the same sleeping bag to try and keep warm whilst Smith and the others huddled close to each other in their own sleeping bags. 

Soon it was as important to have extra blankets and layers of clothes as food or water, the surrounding houses where ransacked by the group in search of gloves and scarves to keep warm but they soon ran out of houses.

**********

“With so few of us, only one person was on watch at a time so the others could rest.” Smith supplied. “We had to ration the food we had because we hadn’t found anywhere that hadn’t already been looted in days and we were all weak and exhausted but we hadn’t moved on because we couldn’t decide where to go. The whole city was swamped with infected and going further in to try and reach the base just seemed like suicide but we also didn’t want to leave and give up on getting in there. Mark, Lewis and Tom all thought that it might be where their families would be if they were still alive because it was the closest base we knew of to their homes.” 

Ross nodded at Smith to show he was still listening and to encourage him to continue. 

Smith pulled his hand from Ross’ and stood. “I-“ He ran a hand through his hair and paced the small space in the room for a second. Ross watched from the bed. “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Ross watched him leave the room and fell back onto the bed with both hands at his face, rubbing at his eyes for a moment before letting his arms fall to the bed either side of his torso. 

Everything Smith had spoken about was so horrific that Ross was starting to see exactly why the other man was so hell bent on destroying himself. Ross wasn’t sure he would have survived what Smith had gone through, Trott maybe, but not Ross. 

It was only a couple of minutes before the other man returned and shut the door behind him. Ross sat up again. “You okay?” He asked, kicking himself internally as soon as the words had left his mouth. 

Smith nodded. “I’m just not sure how to say the next part.” He confessed, looking more helpless than Ross had ever seen him- even worse than when he had been sobbing on the stairs just a few short weeks ago. 

**********

Smith, Tom and Mark were venturing deeper into the city, trying to find a way through the infected to the base. They had been entering houses along the way to look for anything useful they could take and had hit something of a jackpot in one of the homes. The former resident had been some kind of military as far as they could tell, the garage was full of gear for outdoor living and a large box had contained things like mess tins, binoculars and Smith’s newest weapon – a machete. 

They had been gone from the others for over a day and hadn’t really slept since leaving them to scout. They found advantage in height, climbing buildings or trees to be able to see what lay ahead of them and where they should avoid. 

Tom was fidgety, a product of the situation and also his worry for Lewis hidden back on the outskirts with the others. Smith was starting to think the situation was hopeless, there was no way they could sneak past all the infected. They were too clumped together the further in they got, he assumed that around the base would be even worse and they still couldn’t get anywhere near the place. 

**********

“Hunger drove us to enter this old pub, we all figured that there could be tins still okay in the kitchen.” Smith paused, a bitter smile on his face. “Tom was hoping for something sweet, custard or condensed milk or something. Mark was teasing him about the condensed milk, calling him grandma and asking him if he wanted some boiled sweets or liver and onions too when it happened.” 

“We didn’t like splitting up, but I had turned to go check downstairs where the barrels where. Thought maybe I could find some booze to keep us warm or at least give us one night of decent sleep.” Smith stopped talking and sat back down on the bed. 

“It was fucking chaos. One minute I’m reaching for a door handle and the next I’m on my back with an infected woman trying to gnaw at my face.” 

Smith broke off, standing from the bed and pacing. “It wasn’t meant to-“ Smith came to a stop right in front of the wall of pictures. “I was too busy fighting to notice at first. Mark did though.” 

“They killed Tom?” Ross asked, trying to help Smith get it all out. 

Smith barked a bitter sound that was almost a laugh. “No.” He answered. “One of them had taken a chunk out of his leg with their teeth. Mark caved their skull in and we managed to somehow kill the rest of them as Tom tried to keep his screaming under control to not attract more of them.” 

Smith pointed to one of the pictures showing a man with a bandana tied around his head, posing with a golf club as if he had just teed off, one hand raised to his brow to block out the non-existent sun. “Mark knocked Tom out with the golf club so that we could carry him back to the others – back to Lewis.”

“I don’t know how we managed to make it back without another fight but somehow we did.” 

*********

The infighting when they arrived was terrible. No one wanted to see one of their own turn and so they left, giving up the hope that they would make it to the base and fleeing north leaving Smith, Mark, Lewis and Tom behind when they refused to leave Tom or kill him before he turned. 

Tom didn’t scream when he woke, Smith wished that he would have. It might have made it seem more real and let him entertain the fact that Tom wasn’t going to make it through the infection. Instead it instilled a small hope in the men that maybe his bite wasn’t as bad as it appeared. Maybe the most damage was done by hands and not teeth, maybe the infection was so small that it would be easy to beat. 

Maybe.

It wasn’t. 

They had taken to doing things around the abandoned house to pass the time. Smith boarded up windows with an old portable nail gun that still had some charge whilst Mark would spend most of his time in the attic where he had bashed a hole in the roof so he could use the binoculars to watch for trouble. 

Lewis didn’t move from Tom’s side. Spending hours holding him and talking to him in hushed whispers that didn’t carry through the house. 

During one of Lewis’ rare breaks away to eat and clean up, Tom asked Smith to sit with him. 

Tom was lying on an old sofa, his head propped up by bundled up blankets. “I’m not going to make it through this, Alex.” 

Smith swallowed past the lump in his throat, raising his brows and trying to give his friend a challenging look. “Not with that attitude.” He teased. “At least try for some optimism for once in your life.” 

“Says you?” Tom retorted, his voice reedy and weak sounding to Smith’s ears. 

Smith rolled his eyes. “If my useless arse can fight through the infection then you-“ 

“Stop.” Tom interrupted. “Don’t make this into a joke.” He said. “I need you to do something for me.” 

“Look, I know you have always had a thing for me but this really isn’t the time to be pushing this bromance forward.” 

“Alex.” Tom waited until Smith looked at him. “Please?” 

Tears filled Smith’s eyes. His nose and throat burning as he knelt on the floor in front of his best friend. Smith shook his head at the look in the other man’s eyes. “You can’t die on me, mate.” Smith struggled out through his clenched jaw. “You’re all I have.” 

Tom hissed out a pained breath as he shifted his position and lifted an arm to his head to pull off his hat, letting it fall to his chest for a moment as he took some pained breaths. “I want you to have this, it always looked better on you anyway.” 

Smith shook his head as Tom smiled at him. Tears streaked down the kneeling man’s face as Tom struggled to place the garment on top of Smith’s head. Smith captured Tom’s hands between his own and leant over his friend. 

“When the time comes, I need you to do it.” Tom said, tears leaking out the edges of his own eyes as he looked into Smith’s. “Mark isn’t capable of doing it and Lewis won’t do it.” 

“But I will?” Smith asked, searching his friend’s eyes and finding nothing but pain and sadness. 

Tom made a slight nod, barely an incline of his head. “I wish I didn’t have to ask you to do this, Alex.” 

“Then don’t!” Smith shouted back. 

“I don’t have much time left and I can’t die knowing that I could kill all of you when this fucking thing takes over.” Tom pleaded. 

“I love you, you absolute cunt.” 

Tom smiled. “I know.” He replied. “And I ask you to do this because of that, and because I love you too much to become a fucking monster that is going to try with everything it has to fucking eat you.” He argued. “If I had the strength to do it myself, to jump off a bridge or into a river then I would do it myself but I don’t. I have you or I have the knowledge of what this fucking body will end up doing to the only people that I love.” 

Smith wiped at his face with his sleeve and pushed himself to his feet. “I won’t” 

*********

“But you did?” Ross asked, standing and approaching the other man still standing by the pictures. 

Smith nodded. “We had that argument a few more times over the next day or two. Until he was too weak to make it anymore and instead would just look at me like he was trying to talk to me with his eyes.” Smith explained. “He finally got me to agree and it only took six words.” 

Ross waited for Smith to elaborate. 

“I would do it for you.” 

Ross reached out and took the other man by the shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Smith.” He said, running his hands up and down Smith’s biceps. “There was no right way in that situation.” 

Smith carried on talking, seeming to ignore Ross altogether. “We didn’t tell Lewis and Mark until the last moment. Tom said it was time and so he told them. Said goodbye to Mark and then Lewis stayed with him for over an hour before he left the room and told me to go in.” 

Ross steered Smith towards the bed, worried that he would collapse under his confessions. “You don’t have to-“ 

Smith wiped his palms against his thighs, ignoring Ross’ speech and continuing. “I held him as I did it. The nail gun had just enough charge left to-“ A sob escaped and he took a few deep, trembling breaths. “When it was done I stayed in there with him for a while. I’m not sure how long, and when I finally got up and left the room Lewis and Mark where gone.” 

“They left you?” Ross asked, completely aghast at the information. 

Smith nodded and buried his face in his hands. 

Ross cursed the two men under his breath as he wrapped both arms around Smith’s shoulders and rested his chin on the crown of Smith’s head, holding him as he once again broke down into wracking sobs.


	19. Clicks

Smith woke to the smell of hot food wafting through his bedroom door that had been left open a crack. It smelt like gravy and pasta, and set his stomach rumbling before the previous evening came back to him and instead caused it to roll. 

He had told Ross everything. And Ross hadn’t run. He had stayed with Smith, telling him it wasn’t his fault and apologizing and empathizing. 

It was too much. 

Everything about the dark haired man was too much for him and Smith wasn’t so blind as to misinterpret the other man’s feelings. 

Smith’s own feelings were something he hadn’t analysed since even before the infection had ruined the world. He had never been good at relationships, the only ones that ever seemed to work just happened by chance and anything even remotely romantic ended in disaster when Smith would inevitably put his foot in it or make some faux pas like spending too much time with his friends or too little with his partner. 

A soft knock on the door frame interrupted Smith’s thoughts of the past. 

“Trott made some breakfast.” Ross said, poking his head inside and offering Smith a soft smile. 

Smith swallowed, breaking eye contact with the dark haired man with a nod. “I’m just going to go clean up first.” He said as he stood and gestured to the exposed skin of his arms that was littered with scabs and dried blood from the night before. 

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t eat it all then.” Ross said, trying to keep the conversation light with the weak joke. 

“Thanks.” 

**********

Trott didn’t say anything until Smith had emerged from his room and gone into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

“How is he?” He asked, stirring the almost cooked pasta around the saucepan with his left hand. 

Ross leant against one of the counters opposite Trott. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “Devastated is pretty much the only word I can think that fits.” 

Trott grimaced. “I fucked up, bad.” 

“I’m pretty sure he’s as fucked up as he was before we got here, Trott. You didn’t do that.” 

A gentle smile ghosted over Trott’s face for a second. It was typical of Ross to defend him. Ross was hard pressed to think badly of anyone in any situation, let alone his best friend when he had been frustrated and in pain. 

“You’re too forgiving.” Trott countered. “Always have been.” 

Ross shrugged as the bathroom door clicked open and Smith emerged in fresh clothes and his damp hair clinging to his forehead.

“And you’re too judgmental.” Ross muttered, just loud enough for Trott to hear. 

Trott scuffed his foot across the floor and into Ross’ in a soft kick that was really more of an affectionate nudge. “Prick.” 

Ross didn’t comment back, instead he reached forward and took the spoon from Trott’s hand and snatched the saucepan up from the hob to drain the excess water away so the three men could eat. 

Trott took Ross’ cooking intervention for what it really was. A chance for him to speak to Smith and clear the air before they would have to sit down and eat together. Trott filled a glass with water and placed it in front of Smith as he sat himself at the table, a small offering that Smith accepted with a quiet ‘thanks’. 

Trott floundered for a few moments, Ross shot him a pointed look and slowed his serving to give his friend more time. 

With a sigh, Trott sat down in the chair next to Smith and held a hand out to the taller man. “Hi, I’m Chris Trott and I’m a complete cunt when I’m worried or stressed.” 

Ross watched in thinly veiled amusement as Smith eyed Trott’s outstretched hand for more time than was comfortable. 

When Trott didn’t waver, instead keeping his hand outstretched and looking Smith right in the eye, the taller man extending his own hand and took Trott’s in a firm grasp. 

“Alex Smith.” Smith said, keeping the unwavering eye contact going. “Completely reckless and utterly thoughtless twat when angry.”

Trott smirked as they shook hands before they both released and said no more as Ross finished serving their food and joined them both at the table. 

They ate in a silence that wasn’t totally awkward. 

**********

The next few days where quiet. Smith kept to himself, packing and repacking a large rucksack that he would be taking with him when they left. It was hard for him. He had been in the flats for so long and had accumulated many more things than he would be able to carry, yet he was loathed to leave any of them behind. 

Ross kept an eye on both men, whilst Smith was withdrawn that was to be expected but Trott was being uncharacteristically quiet too and it put Ross on edge. 

Trott would disappear for hours at a time and return out of breath, usually with his shirt sticking to him with sweat and his hair swept away from his face. 

The dark haired man didn’t have it in him to question Trott past the initial worried query about him going outside. Trott assured him that he wasn’t leaving the block of flats and so Ross let the subject drop and tried to enjoy the last of his time in Smith’s little safe haven before they would be back out in the world, fighting for their lives. 

When time permitted, Ross would find himself gravitating to Smith and sitting with him as he went through his belongings over and over again. Ross never touched any of it, but he would occasionally ask questions that Smith would usually answer with a faraway look. Sometimes Smith would even smile at the memories. 

“Tom gave this to my for my birthday, the last one before all this shit went down.” Smith told him. “He drove me mad clicking the thing all the time, told him I was going to shove it up his arse more times than I can count.” 

Ross reached a hand out but stopped short of touching the object until Smith signalled that he could. 

It had been years since Ross had seen a laser pen, they had been all the rage when he was a kid and had been one of the numerous objects that was banned from most primary schools in the country due to the kids pointing them at each other’s eyes. 

The metal was warm from where Smith had been holding it just moments before and it was longer than most of the ones Ross had seen when he was a boy. He studied the pen for a few moments, noting how some of the silver had rubbed away in patches to show a slightly orange tinge beneath and how the button seemed to be worn on one edge. 

Smith waited, watching Ross as he looked the object over before holding a hand out for the other man to return it. 

Ross placed it back in Smith’s hand gently, as if it was the most precious thing he had ever been trusted to hold. 

To Smith, it probably was. 

**********

Smith kicked the door shut behind him as he entered the flat he shared with his best friend. Tom was lounging in the window seat with one side leant against the glass, looking down at the people passing by in the early evening light. A constant noise, not dissimilar to a pen being rapidly clicked but not exactly the same sounded in the quite room, causing Smith to sigh and approach the other man. 

Smith’s hand closed around Tom’s, silencing the clicking as he tried to pry the metal tube out of his hand. “That fucking sound is driving me insane.” Smith said, pulling the object out of his friend’s hand. 

Tom had heard the same complaint many times, usually followed by Smith removing the laser pen from him until Tom gave him a sad look and once more told him where he had got it, causing Smith to feel guilty and give it back. Starting the whole thing over again when Tom inevitably started clicking. 

Smith didn’t even wait for Tom to open his mouth this time, instead just meeting his eyes and handing it back over. 

“C’mere and sit down.” Tom said, motioning to the empty side of the window seat. “And watch.” 

Smith did as he was asked, mirroring Tom’s position on the other end of the window with their knees pressed together. “I’m tired, mate. I just want to go sleep for an hour then go out and get fucked at the union and forget this week ever happened.” 

Tom frowned and clicked the laser without thought, pausing on a second click when Smith gave him a sharp look. Tom turned his head and scanned the people in the area below their flat. 

It was a mixture of courtyard, park and thoroughfare. Sections of grass where people lazed in the late summer twilight, benches where others sat to work and a large path connecting the six blocks of flats haphazardly. 

Tom lifted the hand holding the laser until it was by his ear, angling his closed fist. “At the entrance to C block.” He said, motioning with a tilt of his head that Smith should look. 

The taller man shifted in his seat slightly so he could turn and train his eyes where Tom directed. From this distance it was hard to spot the small red dot at first, but after some waggling from Tom he found it. 

“Watch.” Tom instructed, stilling any questions that were about to come from his friend. 

Smith did, his eyes darting from Tom’s face next to him, to the red dot that was dancing around the entrance to the other block of flats. 

It only took a few moments for part of Tom’s plan to come to light. 

A scraggly black cat emerged from the darkness of the doorway, pawing at the ground and leaping forwards to try and catch the laser dot that darted across the ground around its feet. 

“I bet, that I can get the cat to pounce at those girls and get them to shit themselves.” Tom said, leading the cat towards a group of girls sitting on the grass with their backs to where the cat was approaching. 

Smith snorted in amusement. “They’ll see before you get it close enough.” 

Tom raised an eyebrow and looked away from his entertainment for a moment to give Smith a pointed look. “Dinner tonight says that I can.” 

Smith shook his head. “Fine, you do that and I’ll make you dinner. But If I win then I get the laser pen for a week.” 

Tom clicked twice, almost losing the interest of the cat until he put his attention back onto what was going on outside. “Deal.” He agreed. 

**********

“And he did it, the bastard.” Smith finished with a smile. “Whenever we didn’t have the money to go out or didn’t feel like it, we would mess with the cats. There was always a few hanging around outside the flats.” 

Ross thought over what Smith had told him, still confused about something. “If Tom liked that thing so much, why did he give it to you?” 

Smith rolled the object around in his hand for a moment before unscrewing first the top and then the bottom of it. Inside were small pellets that Smith moved around the table with the tip of his index finger before picking one up and placing it on the end of the pen and screwing the top back on with it inside. 

“He said it was because it would be the last year at uni together and he wanted me to have the something that I hated to haunt me with his presence for the rest of my life.” 

Ross smiled as Smith sat back in his chair and continued to talk. 

“Truthfully, he was skint and couldn’t afford to get me anything. The thought meant everything to me though.” 

Smith tilted his wrist to point the pen at the ceiling, a click sounded and Ross followed the line with his eyes. 

“This was his favourite one. The little bastard really had a hard on for pirates.” Smith’s voice was wistful and coloured by the smile pulling at his lips. 

On the ceiling was a red outline of a flag with a skull and crossbones on its surface.


	20. Like fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They boys restart their journey with a couple of extra hands and paws.

The first day, they tried not to push Trott too far. Keeping the pace steady at a slow walk to get him acclimatized to moving around again, however, Trott protested. That was what he had been up to back at the flats for the last however many days when he came back sweaty and tired. Training. 

Trott had spent day after day walking around the flats at a fast walk before building himself up to a jog and then incorporating the many flights of stairs to get his fitness up in a safe place before they left. Ross should have known, but then again, he had been concentrating on the newest member of their group instead. 

Smith's guard had come up after 'the incident', which Ross had taken to calling it in his head. He had sometimes let Ross in, talking about Tom and their life before the world went to shit but he barely spoke around Trott. 

Trott didn’t seem to mind Smiths silence, preferring it to outright screaming at him. He knew Smith had the right to be angry at him and he wasn’t going to take that away from the taller man. 

The second day was more grueling, an extra couple of hours which included a detour to give the airport a wide birth as it seemed to be swarming with infected. They followed a dirt road that ran almost parallel to the M1, heading north with Smith and Ross keeping up a steady stream of quiet conversation about anything and everything that they could think of. 

Stopping at a service station was probably a stupid thing to do. They all knew it, yet it was the most obvious place to find food and water to keep them going on their journey. They could only carry so much at once and their supplies were dwindling. 

"I know we have enough for another day at least, but we don’t know when we'll next hit a good place to find stuff." Smith reasoned with the other two. 

Ross and Trott shared a look, simultaneously shrugging at each other. "He's right." Trott conceded. "This place is pretty far out from any town. There shouldn’t be many here." 

"We might even find real beds. These places usually have a shitty hotel attached." Smith said, prodding the other two further to agree to head towards the services. 

*********

The once tidy patches of grass to the side of the doors where picnic benches rested were overgrown, the grass at least a foot high and overtaken by weeds. 

Smith slid his metal bat out of the side pocket of his backpack as they neared the doors. A low groaning emitted from the building, he would not be caught off guard without his weapon. He signaled for the other two to stay close but behind him, Twat was at his heel almost brushing his left leg as they rounded the corner. 

The dog didn’t hesitate to attack the two infected who were standing just inside the first set of doors, her teeth ripping at their arms and legs as Smith, Ross and Trott used their bats to cave in their skulls quickly. 

"This way." Smith whispered, moving carefully through the entranceway and into the main foyer of the building, only relaxing once he had done a full circuit and found no more infected lurking in any corners. 

The place had clearly been looted at some point, fridge doors in the main shop were left hanging open. Similarly, everything had been taken from the Costa Coffee stand. "There will be a storeroom somewhere." Smith said. "Most looters don't think about it, there might still be stuff down there." 

"You think there'll be any chocolate?" Ross asked, hope seeming to shine in his eyes. 

Trott laughed. "You and your fucking chocolate." 

"I have a sweet tooth, I can't help it." Ross said, folding his arms across his chest. 

Smith quirked an eyebrow. "If we find chocolate, you can have first dibs." 

Trott smirked and walked towards a door marked 'staff only', calling over his shoulder. "Are you finished trying to buy your way into Ross' pants now?" He said to Smith who gawped at him but at least had the sense to not deny the accusation. 

"Remind me why I didn’t let him die?" Smith asked Ross, not making eye contact. 

Ross huffed a laugh. "I have no idea." He answered, skipping into a jog to follow Trott. "Come on." He called behind him to Smith and Twat.

**********

The walk the next day was a little uncomfortable, all three men had gorged themselves on junk food that they had found in the storeroom. Crisps, chocolate, fizzy drinks and cheese – of all things. 

Their travel was halted often by infected on the route, just a couple meant that the three men carried on and would simply clear their own path with their bats but whenever they came across a larger group they had to find a new route, sometimes having to backtrack and putting even more time on their journey. 

The frequency that they saw infected near the motorway was what forced them to veer off, crossing the bridge early in the morning as the sun was still climbing in the sky. They headed towards countryside where the population had been less dense, passing fields and farmhouses and the occasional out of the way industrial estate. 

The river Rother gave them the first chance since they had left the flats to actually get themselves properly clean. Smith had even managed to find some soap and shampoo in a pub just off the river as well as a load of spare clothes that the men swapped out for their most travel worn. 

Self-consciousness had only gripped Ross for a moment as they stripped down to their underwear until both Smith and Twat had ran past him and leapt into the slow moving water.

Ross felt like he was in heaven, floating in the slow running water with his hand on a rock. Being clean was something that was very much a luxury to all three men.

"Can we just stay here forever?" Ross asked. 

Trott splashed him from his left. "Katie, remember?" 

"I think she'd like it here." Ross commented, looking around a little at the wildflowers lining the overgrown bank where Twat had lay herself out in the warm sun. “It’s peaceful.” 

Trott’s instinctual smile at the mention of Katie was enough to prod Smith to ask the questions he had been mulling over for so long. Was one person really worth what these two men, and now him, we’re doing? Risking his life for someone he had never met was not something Smith thought he would ever have been capable of, yet he was. Something in the back of his head insisted that he wasn’t doing it for the girl but for the dark haired man who so desperately wanted to keep his friends safe. 

Smith launched himself onto the bank and sat down, his feet still in the cold water. “You still haven’t really told me what she’s like.” He said, looking at Trott. 

The man in question didn’t answer right away, instead waiting until he had climbed out of the water and was lying on his back in the long grass, starring up at the clouds above with Twat next to him. 

“Katie.” He said, trying to put his feelings into words was harder than he thought. “She’s like-“ He paused, looking to Ross as if he could somehow reach into Trott’s mind and make sense of what was in there. 

Ross waded towards the bank, stopping close to where Trott lay in the grass but looking at Smith to the left. “Katie and Trott never fell in love.” Ross said, getting confused looks from both men. “Falling makes it sound like it was an accident or it was bad.” He clarified. “From the outside, it seemed much more like they jumped together or something.” 

Trott hummed in what could be interpreted as agreement. “I don’t have the words to describe what it was like, or what it’s like now that I don’t know what’s happened to her.” 

Smith ignored the slightly broken quality to the other man’s voice and instead pulled his feet out of the water to sit cross legged on the shore. “What’s she look like?” 

“Like fire.” Trott answered without hesitating. “Beautiful.” 

Ross pulled himself onto the bank between Smith and Trott, mirroring Smith’s earlier position with his feet still in the river. “Scottish.” Ross added with a smirk at Trott. 

“Very Scottish.” Trott agreed. 

Smith ran a hand through his wet hair, looking over at the two men. “That’s all you can say? Beautiful and Scottish?” 

Trott sat up and shrugged his shoulders. “How do you describe the most important thing in the world?” 

Smith didn’t answer, the question had thrown up too many thoughts in his head, the first of which was questioning what the hell that even was to him anymore. Before it had been Tom, it might have sounded weird to some people but it was true. Tom was his best friend, the one person who had been with him through everything. The person who didn’t judge him, the person who loved him enough to tell him when he was being stupid and was also the person who was there for Smith when it all fell apart when he didn’t listen to Tom in the first place. Love like that wasn’t synonymous with lovers, he knew that because he had never thought of Tom like that, but now he was seeing first hand from Trott and Ross what it meant when those two things coincided. It was almost palpable in the air. 

“Come on, we should head back to the farmhouse for the night.” Smith said, snapping himself out of his thoughts and noting the position of the sun in the sky. 

*********

The farmhouse wasn’t as old as its architecture and decorating pretended it to be. The walls were solid, modern brick with holes where the cavity wall installation had been inserted and the roof was covered in slate tiles rather than thatch. That didn’t seem to faze whoever had filled the house with furniture and appliances, the centerpiece to which all three men were sitting around in the large open kitchen. 

The massive wood burning stove stood side by side with the AGA that had long since gone out through lack of gas. The men sat in front of the open grate to the stove, flames dancing before them as they ate their first hot meal in a few days. 

Once he had finished his meal, Smith laid the map out on the large wooden table and used an old paraffin lamp they had found in the shed to see what he was looking at. 

“How we doing so far?” Ross asked, turning in his chair to watch as Smith studied the map. 

“Still have around 350 miles left to go.” Smith said. “We’ve done around 100 in the last five days.” 

Ross made a face. “We should up the pace.” 

Smith sat back in his chair. “Daylight is more on our side with each day.” He said. “We should be able to do more every day.” 

“We need transport.” Ross said with a sigh. “If we had a car or even bikes again.” 

“It’s too risky to go back into a town to try and find bikes.” Smith answered. “And all the cars we come across have been standing for too long to work or they have no fuel.” 

Ross let the subject drop, instead busying himself by making them all tea using a saucepan on the top of the wrought iron stove to boil the water. 

Smith stood from his seat, disappearing from the room for a moment before returning and placing something on the table as Ross handed Trott his mug. “I found these in one of the cupboards in the other room.” Smith said, passing out biscuits. 

“Fucking tea and biscuits.” Ross commented. “I feel old.” He did not however refuse the stale sweet, dipping it into his drink before shoving the whole thing into his mouth. 

“This.” Trott said, starring into the dancing flames. “This feeling, is Katie.” 

Smith raised a brow, letting the fact that their conversation from hours before was starting up again slide and instead concentrating what Trott had said. “What? Hot?” 

Trott shook his head. “Warm, safe-“ He said.

“Like home.” Ross finished, sharing a look with Trott that made Smith feel like he was intruding on something that he shouldn’t be seeing. Trott nodded, leant back in his seat and closed his eyes.


	21. Wet Boiks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> British weather, bringing people together

“Come on!” Trott shouted over the sound of the pounding rain. “We need to get inside.”

“Where?” Smith asked, looking around at the open countryside that they found themselves in.

Rain ran down Ross’ face, falling in a steady stream from his chin. They were soaked, all of them. Twat was shaking out excess water from her fur every few seconds as they huddled together under a tree that wasn’t doing much to shield them from the rain and the cold, biting wind.

“We’re going to get fucking hypothermia out here.” Trott said, rubbing his hands together to try and generate some heat.

Smith stamped his feet, trying to get some feeling back into his numb toes. Water resistant boots didn’t do shit when you were practically wading through fields and puddles. “We need to find a proper road.”

Ross didn’t say anything, keeping his jaw clenched to stop the chattering of his teeth. His clothes were sodden, making it difficult to move and weighing him down. His shoes squelched with every step that they took. Ross plead with any higher power that might exist in the universe that they had picked the right direction to walk in and that they would soon be out of the rain.

Trott spotted the hedge first, Ross had been too busy concentrating on trying to stay out of the larger puddles of mud less he sank down to his shins in them – again.

Pushing through the thick brambles was made easier with Smith and Trott pushing them aside with their bats, Ross being significantly less cut up by the thorny barrier than Trott and Smith had been.

The feeling of solid tarmac beneath their feet was like heaven after the water logged ground of the field and it enabled them to pick up the pace without fear of falling on an uneven surface. 

Twat ran ahead, turning back whenever she unintentionally left Smith’s line of sight to check that all was still well with her humans. She was not pleased with being wet. 

Trott almost cried out in relief when a building came into view around a corner and he sped up to a quicker jog that Ross couldn’t keep up with, Trott had always been faster than him even if Ross was the one with the longer legs.

“Trott!” Smith shouted over the wind that was still howling through the trees either side of the road. “Don’t go fucking rushing in!”

Smith didn’t know if Trott didn’t hear him or if he was just choosing to ignore him, both Smith and Ross put on and extra burst of speed to try and catch the other man.

“Fuck!”

The shout was enough to make Ross go faster, outstripping Smith and almost catching up to Twat who had rounded a corner to wherever Trott was. Ross skidded around the side of a building and didn’t even take the time to assess his surroundings, instead running full pelt into the bodies surrounding his friend. 

Smith reached to his side and pulled his bat out of his bag, shrugging out of the straps whilst still running and letting the bag fall to the wet floor. He went in swinging, sending the infected stumbling to the floor with loud cracks from the bat.

Trott kicked out at the infected man in front of him, giving him enough time to grab up a huge red set of bolt cutters from the top of a free standing toolbox. He swung them like a club, one hand on each handle, cracking skulls with the bladed end.

Ross scrambled away from the infected that he had knocked to the ground, kicking at their grasping hands that tried to catch him. He caught one on the forehead and their head snapped back like their neck had been broken but still they kept coming for him.

Twat was a mass of wet black fur, darting between each human to try and help them. Her teeth ripping into infected flesh as she pulled them off balance and away from those she was protecting. She leapt over the man who was gripping onto the bottom of Ross’ jeans and took out the woman who was bearing down on the dark haired man, her teeth tearing through skin and muscle at the woman’s throat.

Outside, the rain continued to pour and the darkened sky lit up with flashes of lightening that led to rumbling thunder so loud that the floor shook below their feet.

**********

Smith let himself sink to his knees from where he had been crouched taking care of the last of the infected. Across the room Ross stood to his full height, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead and causing it to stand up in small messy spikes. “We should check there aren’t any more.” He said, breathing heavily. 

Trott nodded, bent over double with his hands on his knees to try and catch his own breath. Twat walked over to Smith, sniffing at a cut on his hand for a moment before licking it. Smith smiled before pulling his hand away and pushing himself to his feet.

Smith stepped back out into the rain as the sky lit up. He retrieved his backpack from where he had discarded it as thunder rumbled. Twat moved with him, her ears flat to her head and her tail firmly wedged between her legs. A small whine accompanied the thunder that was followed by another flash only a second or two later.

Ross and Trott followed Smith out of the workshop and towards the house at a sprint, the three men and the dog crowding inside the small porch. “It’s locked.” Smith said, pushing at the door for a moment before rummaging in his pockets. “That’s a good sign, probably means no one has been in here.”

Ross and Trott surveyed the area whilst Smith picked the lock, trying to make sure that they weren’t going to be surprised a second time by more infected.

Twat pushed past Smith as soon as he had the door open, sniffing the air before moving further in and waiting for the three men to follow her.

It was another farm house, a little more run down than the last they had stayed in but it was dry and that was all that really mattered.

After taking a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, the men split up to search the house as they had done many times before.

*********

Smith checked the cellar, the candle he had lit sputtering a little from getting damp in his bag during the downpour. The candle didn’t shed much light but it was enough to find the large pile of wood stacked against one wall. 

Trott came back with blankets, dropping them to the old looking sofa in front of the fireplace where Smith was arranging wood. “There’s some moth eaten shirts but not really anything else apart from the blankets.” Trott explained. 

Ross entered the room, a couple of saucepans in his hands. “There’s some soup and beans and stuff in the kitchen that we can have. Some tuna too, for Twat.” 

Smith stood and walked a step away from the fireplace, grabbing up an old newspaper that had been left on the coffee table. “It doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere else until at least tomorrow.” Smith said, gesturing in the general direction of the windows. 

Outside was dark, darker than it had any right being in the early afternoon. 

Ross went over and pulled the curtains closed. “We should close all the doors too, it’ll keep the heat in this room.” 

Smith nodded at him and re-joined Trott by the fire, shredding up some of the newspaper to use as kindling. 

The fire caught slowly, growing until the logs finally caught and it started giving out heat in earnest whereby Twat stretched herself out a foot or so away from the flames. 

“She has the right idea.” Trott commented, sitting himself on the floor to undo his shoes. 

Smith pulled the fire guard from where it had been leaning against the wall, standing it just off to the side of the fire. With one hand steadying him on the guard, he unlaced one boot then the other and pulled them off. His socks followed and he draped them over the top of the metal railing. 

Ross averted his eyes, trying not to stare as Smith striped himself down to his boxers. “Pass me a blanket.” Trott reached behind himself and snatched one of them up, throwing it towards the taller man. “Fuck, that’s better.” Smith commented, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. 

Trott shrugged from his position on the floor and began undressing, cocooning himself inside his blanket and lying pressed against Twat close to the fire. 

*********

After they had eaten, it was obvious that Smith had been right. They couldn’t go any further that day, the storm was giving no indication that it was going to stop and it was heading towards night. 

Ross was still cold. It seemed to have seeped into his bones. The hot food had eased it a little, warming him from the inside, but he was still finding it hard not to shiver. Trott’s even breathing, Twat’s gentle snores and the popping of the fire was the only sound for a few minutes until Ross broke the silence. 

“Are my clothes dry yet?” He asked Smith who was sitting, hugging his knees by the makeshift clothes horse. 

Smith reached up and felt a few items. “The T shirt is, jeans and hoody are still damp.” He answered. “I have some cargo trousers in my bag if you want them?” 

Ross nodded, hugging his blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I’m still cold.” He admitted walking forwards to collect his T shirt. 

Smith swivelled around and pulled his bag closer to him, rummaging inside whilst Ross pulled on his shirt. Shaking out the trousers, Smith offered them to Ross who took them and pulled them on quickly before wrapping the blanket around himself once more. “Come sit closer to the fire.” Smith said, patting the floor next to him. 

Ross sat down next to Smith, their backs to the fire. “You think we’ll be able to carry on tomorrow?” 

“If it’s still raining then no, but this should blow over by morning I think.” Smith answered. “Either way, Trott has the right idea. We should sleep.” Next to him, Ross shivered. 

“It’s too cold to sleep.” 

Smith sighed. Reaching over and snatching his T shirt off the guard and pulling it over his head. “Lie down.” He told Ross, as he did so himself. “Trap one edge of the blanket under your arse and drape the rest over you to keep the heat in.” 

Ross followed what Smith had said, grabbing a small cushion from the sofa to use as a pillow and pulling the blanket taught around his body once he was lying down. 

“Any better?” Smith asked, eying the other man next to him. 

“I don't know.” Ross answered. “Maybe.” 

Smith pressed his lips together for a moment. He knew what the best way to keep warm was, Trott was doing it just a foot or so away with Twat but he wasn’t sure it was the best idea. 

It was obvious, to Trott at least, that Ross liked Smith and Smith hadn’t missed it either. Had the situation been different, had Smith not been harbouring feelings of his own it might have been easier to help Ross. 

But it wasn’t. Smith’s brain argued with him, the apocalypse was not the time to be having feelings for anyone. It was a time to survive by any means necessary and having people to care about was dangerous. Tom had proven that. 

The man next to him curled himself into a ball.

Smith sighed loudly, shuffling his body forward until there was no space between himself and Ross. “Come on, lie on me.” Smith said, lifting his blanket for Ross. 

“What?” Ross asked, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. 

Smith decided to ignore the blush creeping up Ross’ cheeks. “I’ve been told that I’m like a radiator and it’s what they say to do in all the survival books right?” He said. “Huddle for warmth.” 

Ross averted his eyes from Smith’s face and nodded, lifting his own blanket and sliding next to the other man. Smith lay on his back, one arm stretched out. “Use my shoulder as a pillow.” Smith instructed. 

Ross lay his head on Smith’s bicep and pulled his blanket around them both before Smith added his own on top and tucked the arm that was holding it back under the covers. 

Smith reached down, taking Ross’ wrist in his hand and draped Ross’ arm around his torso. So that they were pressed against each other more. “Now go to sleep.” Smith said, closing his eyes and letting his head fall to the right where his nose brushed against Ross’ hair.


	22. Hell Base Oscar

The world spun as he lifted his head. It was chaos. 

Trott was surrounded. Ross, Smith and Twat all fighting to get to him. 

There had been too many. The men hadn’t been fast enough. Too careless after a couple of days of seeing no infected. 

Ross gritted his teeth, grunting in pain as he pushed himself back onto his sprained ankle. His vision was clouded, a fall to the unforgiving ground where he had smashed his temple against something unknown had almost knocked him out completely and now he was a little woozy. 

Smith screamed, surging forward and knocked infected off their feet. Twat’s barking sounded almost feral as she fought along Smith, bringing the infected down to the ground where she could rip out their throats. 

Trott ducked down at Smith’s shout and the taller man swung his bat in a wide arch at head level. Ross grit his teeth and limped forward, collecting his baseball bat from the floor on his way to help the others. 

Ross aimed for the infected’s legs, sweeping at kneecaps and shattering bone to try and keep them down on the ground to be more easily dealt with. 

“Smith!” The shout from Trott pulled Ross’ attention from the infected man he was fighting and he watched Smith go down, falling out of view between the bodies of the infected surrounding him. 

Blood coated the floor, making it hard to move without slipping as Ross hobbled towards where Smith had been overwhelmed. Trott bounded in, knocking infected aside to get to the man on the floor. 

Ross was too slow, he saw the two infected approach too late, one taking the brunt of an attack as the other swiped from behind. 

Twat’s body twisted in the air as she was flung, a high pitched yelp from the initial impact still ringing in Trott’s ears as he watched her hit the wall with a sickening thud. Almost in slow motion, he watched her body fall to the floor limp. 

“Twat!” 

Ross was still a few feet away from Smith and Trott as Smith screamed and forced the infected around him to retreat with the wild swinging of his weapon. Skulls caved in with the force of his blows as he fought harder and faster, something almost like a battle cry filled the room as Smith took down more and more infected. 

Trott stepped away from Smith when he saw he couldn’t help, moving around the room to Ross. “You okay?” He asked as he and Ross stood back to back so they could defend against any of the infected that had decided that Smith was just not a good option to attack. 

“Fucked my ankle.” Ross said, pressing back against Trott’s. “Twisted or a sprain or something.” He clarified. 

Trott stepped forward, swinging at the infected body of an older man and sending him crashing into a wall. “Not broken?” 

“I can still move it, just hurts.” Ross confirmed. 

Smith got down to the last three infected and used his bat to push them back, tripping over the bodies of their dead brethren and over to Ross and Trott. The two men didn’t hesitate, stepping away from each other to bring their bats down on the infected’s faces. 

*********

Smith didn’t bother waiting until they were all dead, he shoved at the infected and leapt over others he had already killed. His weapon fell to the floor as he came to a skidding stop on his knees next to Twat, lying unmoving against the wall. 

Blood matted the fur on her side, more oozed out of a gash on her front foreleg and the edge of her tongue rested against the floor where it lolled out of her slightly open jaws. 

Smith’s one hand shook as he reached out to her, his other trying to fist in his hair but instead just getting a handful of beanie. Tears he didn’t realise where falling dripped from his cheeks. “No.” He shook his head. “No, no, no, no. Come on.” He pleaded. “Don’t, please.” 

His hand made contact with the coarse fur on her neck and came away bloody. A hand on his shoulder made him flinch, Trott leant some of his weight on him as he lowered himself to the floor next to Smith pressing his side against the taller man to lend any comfort he could. 

Ross crashed down on his other side, by Twat’s head. Ignoring Smith, Ross leant forward pressing his ear against Twat’s ribcage whilst his hand cupped around her snout for a moment. 

“She’s alive.” Ross said, sitting back and taking Smith’s hand and placing on Twat’s chest where his head had been. A faint thrumming under Smith’s fingers caused a sob to burst out of him. “I think most of the blood is from the infected, not her.” Ross continued. “There’s a few wounds but I-“ 

Ross was cut off as Smith shuffled forwards and scooped the unconscious dog up in his arms. “We need to go. That fight was loud, more will come.” 

Trott nodded, standing quickly and retrieving their weapons and bags. Ross shrugged on his bag whilst Trott slung his over one shoulder and Smith’s over the other shoulder. 

Smith strode out of the building as Trott met Ross by the door and offered his arm to the shorter man. “As soon as we find somewhere safe we’ll stop and have a look at your ankle.” 

“I’m fine.” Ross insisted. “Adrenaline is keeping the pain in check.” 

**********

“How long does it take you to have a fucking piss?” At first it wasn’t apparent who the scarred blonde woman was talking to. She appeared to be alone, a cricket bat resting on her right shoulder as she turned to watch a doorway. 

The man who came through the door couldn’t have been much older than sixteen, long black hair fell in messy waves around his face as he shrugged at the woman. “I can’t just go anywhere, I’m not an animal, Hannah!” He protested. 

A smile lifted the woman’s lips. “Have to circle the tree a few times first, Barry?” 

“I’m starting to see why the others call you ‘Mega Bitch’.” The man shot back, a grin on his face. 

“Woof.” Hannah deadpanned. 

Barry laughed and raked a hand through his hair to push it away from his face. “This place has been picked clean.” He said after a few moments of silence. “We should head back and let the other’s know.” 

Hannah nodded, picking her way over fallen shelves that littered the floor towards her companion. 

Barry whipped around as they heard a sound from the street outside, someone shouting something. The two friends cautiously stuck their heads out of the door to the building and saw a man jogging with a large black dog in his arm, followed by two other men, one supporting the other as they tried to keep up. 

“We need a fucking plan.” The one who was limping said, seeming to direct it at the man with the dog. 

They we’re nearing where Hannah and Barry hid just inside a doorway. Barry brought a hand up to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle around his fingers. 

The three men turned quickly, terrified eyes meeting Barry and Hannah’s. Hannah beckoned them forwards as what she could only describe as a horde of infected came into view from the direction that the men had come from. 

***********

Trott left Ross to sag against a wall, rushing to help Hannah and Barry to barricade the door that they had entered through. 

“It won’t hold them for long.” Hannah said, taking her cricket back up again and gesturing for everyone to follow her. “We can get out the back way and head back to base.” 

“Base?” Trott asked, securing both his and Ross’ bags over his shoulders again. 

Hannah nodded but added. “Not an official one.” 

Barry continued. “There’s a few of us who stick together, we move around every couple of months or whenever the infected get too close.” 

“What’s with the dog?” Hannah asked, eyeing the three men suspiciously. 

Ross didn’t miss the tightening of Smith’s arms at the question. “She got knocked out.” Ross answered. 

“How bad’s the leg?” The woman asked. “You get bit?” 

Ross shook his head. “Sprained it, we’re clean.” 

Hannah and Barry shared a look for a moment before breaking eye contact. “The base is around a mile out, we need to move fast before the infected realise they can just go around the building.” Hannah said making her way towards a door behind where Smith stood. “This way.” 

**********

Smith hefted Twat up, his arms past burning from carrying her for so long. Their walk was brisk and Smith was starting to lag behind the others. Even Ross’ progress faster due to being flanked by both Barry and Trott who practically held him off the ground between the two of them. Hannah took point, checking around corners before they emerged to ensure they wouldn’t run into any more infected. 

Ross threw a look over his shoulder at Smith that Trott mirrored after a second. 

“Go, help him.” Ross instructed, unhooking his arm from around Trott’s shoulder. 

Trott ducked down under Ross’ arm and waited for Smith. “I can take her.” He said, holding his arms out for the dog in Smith’s arms. 

Smith shook his head. “I’m fine.” He said picking the pace up again. 

Trott jogged a couple of steps to catch up to him again. “Smith, please.” Trott said. “You need a break.” 

“No, we both need to stop wasting energy by talking and just get to this fucking base.” Smith shot back. 

They walked in silence for another ten minutes before Trott spoke again. “You need to stop being so fucking stubborn and take help when-“ 

“We’re here.” Hannah called over her shoulder, approaching a large metal door set into a large brick building with boarded up windows. 

She knocked on the door with the handle of her bat, beating out a rhythm against the metal. “It’s Hannah and Barry.” She called, her face close to the door. “And we brought some new friends.” 

The sound of locks being scraped back sounded as Trott and Smith came to a stop, having reached the others at the door. The hinges squeaked as the door opened half a foot. “What kind of friends?” A voice asked. 

“The not infected kind.” Trott answered. “Three of us and a dog.” 

The man opened the door wider, poking his head out to appraise the group. His hair was a dirty strawberry blonde that fell past his shoulders. “A dog? That’s new.” 

“Just let us in, Duncan.” Hannah said reaching out and pushing the door open further. 

The tall man stepped back and the group filed through the door and into a darkened room dotted with burning candles and lanterns. “Welcome to Hell Base Oscar.” He greeted before turning and closing the door securely behind them. 

Ross hobbled over to one of the many tables and lowered himself into a hard, wooden chair. “A pub?” He asked, looking around the room. 

“Restaurant.” Hannah answered, throwing her back down on a table and sitting herself down on a chair across from Ross.

“There is a bar though.” Barry supplied as he too threw his bag down. “No beer left but there’s still some spirits if you don’t mind them straight.” 

Smith took a deep breath, he needed to find somewhere comfortable to put Twat, not wanting to put her down if he would have to move her again. “Is there somewhere I can-“ 

All words left his head as more people entered the room from the one next door.

Smith didn’t move, standing stock still as a man approached him with a look like thunder on his face. 

Ross watched as Smith seemed to sink in on himself, his shoulders slumping and his legs wobbling as a black haired man with a patchy beard strode over to Smith. Without a word the man snatched Smith’s beanie off his head, a handful of hair also being audibly ripped out as he did so. 

Smith opened his mouth to say something but the man silenced him with a look. “Do not fucking talk to me.” The man said, the malice palpable in his voice before he turned on his heel and strode back out of the room. 

The second man who had stood in the doorway throughout the exchange met Smith’s eye. “You’re still alive.” He said, not sounding surprised by the fact. “Come on, there’s a room in the back with beds.” With that, he turned and started to lead the way. 

Smith nodded gently. “Thanks, Turps.” He mumbled, following behind.


	23. Hostilities

Turps didn’t say anything until he had led them out of a side door, through a short corridor and into what Smith could only assume used to be some kind of store room.

“It’ll be quieter in here, for the dog to recover.” Turps said, pulling some blankets down from a high shelf along the back wall and laying them on the floor. “We’re going to be having dinner soon, settle yourselves in then come to the kitchen.”

Smith walked forward, placing Twat gently down on the blankets that Turps had laid out and stroked her head a few times. Standing, he turned to the others.

Trott and Ross avoided his eyes, Ross limping over and sitting down on the floor with Twat, carding his fingers through the fur on the side of her neck. Trott followed him, kneeling down. “We need to look at your ankle.”

Turps turned from the three men, making his way to the door. Smith took a few steps towards him. “Mark?”

Turps shook his head and turned to face Smith, tears shining in his eyes. “I’m really glad you aren’t dead, Smith.” He said before turning once more and walking out.

Smith busied himself, lighting a couple of lanterns that were dotted around, hanging from nails on the walls.

Ross grimaced as he untied his shoe, sliding it off and feeling an instant release of pressure which was followed by an almost blissful feeling when he pulled his sock off.

“That’s really swollen.” Trott observed, eyeing the reddened flesh of Ross lower leg in concern. “You definitely shouldn’t be walking on it for a few days.”

“You need to keep it elevated.” Smith said, leaning against the door that Turps had left through. “Ice would be great but we’ll have to settle for just keeping it as cool as possible.”

Ross nodded. “Looks like I’ll be staying in here and looking after Twat whilst you guys go to dinner.”

Smith pushed himself away from the door. “I can stay with you. It’s probably not a good idea for me to be around the people here.”

“Yeah, hostile much.” Trott agreed gently.

Smith shrugged. “It’s not their fault.”

“It’s not yours either.” Ross protested, meeting Smith’s eye. “That was Lewis, right?”

Smith just nodded.

Trott pushed himself to his feet. “Okay.” He said, sounding like a decision had been made. “You two stay here with Twat, I’ll go eat dinner with the rest of those people and see if I can get an update on anything and I’ll bring you guys something after.”

“That’s a good idea.” Ross said. “Try and find out as much as you can about what’s going on out there.”

Trott nodded, walking to the door but pausing when he came level with Smith. Placing a hand on the taller man’s shoulder, he patted it lightly. “Nothing that they say or do will change our opinion of you.” Trott assured. “We will still think you’re a massive cunt no matter what.”

Smith couldn’t help but snort a laugh but didn’t say anything, just meeting Trott’s brown eyes and nodding his head in acknowledgment and thanks.

**********

Trott closed the door behind him gently and made his way down the corridor into the main bulk of the building. The smell of gravy was wafting through from a set of swing doors. He followed his nose to the kitchen.

Trott counted nine people in the room. Barry, Hannah and Duncan he knew from their arrival and although he had not been introduced he knew who Turps and Lewis were. He also recognised a couple who were sitting at a table, the brown haired man with glasses who had his arm around a woman with jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had seen their picture on the wall in Smith’s room back at the flats where he had fought off the infection.

Trott decided that the couple looked the least threatening due in part to the fact they were not sitting anywhere near where Lewis talked in rapid whispers to Turps. “Do you mind if I-?” Trott asked, placing his hand on the back of a chair around their table.

“Go for it.” The man said. “I’m Mark and this is Nina.” He introduced. Nina lifted a hand in greeting.

“I’m Chris but everyone calls me Trott.” He said, pulling the chair back and sitting himself down.

Further talk was put on hold for a moment as Trott accepted a plate from a blonde man he didn’t know. “There still loads left for your friends after.” He said. “And whoever lived in the flat upstairs must have had a dog because we found a load of biscuits and food up there that you can have.”

“Thank you.” Trott smiled at him as he deposited two more plates on the table for Mark and Nina.

“Cheers, Martyn.” Mark said, pulling his arm from around Nina and digging into his food. Trott followed suit, they had missed lunch due to the fight and subsequent escape and he was hungry.

It wasn’t until he had almost finished that the silence was broken by Turps joining them at the table. Trott eyed the man as he chewed the last few bites of his food, placing his fork down in the middle of the plate when he was done.

“How is he?” Turps asked, his voice quiet.

“How is he?” Trott scoffed meeting Turps’ eye and feeling a little gratified that the man at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. “How the hell do you think he is?” Trott asked, not waiting for an answer. “You guys abandoned him when he needed you the most.”

“No.” Turps denied. “Lewis just-“ He paused. “He couldn’t stay there, we waited for almost an hour before Lewis had to get out and we came back for Smith the next morning but he was gone.”

Trott drew his brows together. “Of course he was gone.” Trott said. “He was in a house with the dead body of his best friend, and anyone else who might have given the tiniest bit of a shit about him had fucked off too, without a word to him.”

“We didn’t think-“ Trott interrupted whatever Turps was going to say.

“No, you didn’t think. None of you did.” Trott shot back, standing from his seat and turning to leave only to have his path blocked by Lewis.

“You get a pass this time.” Lewis said, sounding threatening. “Smith has you brainwashed into believing whatever the fuck he fed to you, but you were not there. You didn’t go through what we went through and you have no fucking right to accuse me or my friends of anything.”

Trott snorted, folding his arms across his chest. “Brainwashed?” He asked, his voice mocking. “What exactly is the purpose of this brainwashing then? To make me believe that he is a monster and a murderer and that he deserved everything that happened. That he deserved to be left behind. Thrown to the fucking wolves all alone?” Trott ranted. “Because that is the only fucking thing he has ever tried to make us believe.”

“He’s manipulating you!” Lewis shouted back. “Woe is me, fucking Alex Smith. Everything he touches turns to shit and everyone he ever cares about end up hurt or dead. Maybe there’s a reason his own mother didn’t even want anything to do with him.”

**********

Once Trott left, Smith pulled a chair over towards where Ross was sitting. “You okay?” Ross asked as he continued to stroke Twat.

“Not really, no.” Smith answered, sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall and pulling his knees to his chest.

In Ross’ opinion that was a step forward. At least the man was being honest about his feelings for once. “We don’t have to stay here.” Ross said, scooting himself back against the wall next to Smith and extending his damaged foot until it rested on the seat of the chair. Ross grunted in pain until he managed to settle his foot into a comfortable position.

“Your leg says otherwise.” Smith answered.

Ross smiled at him. “I’m sure between you and Trott you could get me and Twat to a house in the village or something.”

Smith shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He insisted. “It’s not the first place I’ve ever been to where I’m not welcome.”

Ross didn’t like the emotion that flashed across the other man’s face. It looked like defeat. “I’m serious. If you need to get out of here then Trott and I have no problem packing up and coming along.”

Smith smiled then, a sad smile that barely showed any teeth. “Thank you.”

A small sound came from between the two men, a quiet yip that was accompanied by Twat’s face and paws twitching. “She’s dreaming.” Ross said, pausing in his stroking.

Smith let out a long breath, stretching his legs back out before shifting his position until he was on his knees in front of the dog. “Hey, hey, hey.” He said, voice soft as he stroked Twat’s head. “Come on girl, you’re safe here.”

The dog opened her eyes and tried to stand, yelping as she first tried to put weight on her left front paw.

“Shh, shh.” Ross soothed, helping Smith to steady her with a hand. She sat, her bad paw resting on the ground but not putting any weight on it. “Looks like I’m not the only one with a bum leg.”

Smith reached out and took Twat’s paw. Carefully examining it with gentle hands and pointing to show Ross what he found. “There’s a cut, here.” He said. “It should heal alright.” He concluded, dropping the paw again.

Twat stood carefully and limped forward a couple of steps without yelping in pain, nosing at Smith’s face for a moment before curling up next to Ross with her head on his thigh and her injured paw outstretched.

“He’s manipulating you!” The shout came from the main building but it was so loud that it easily carried into the side building. “Woe is me, fucking Alex Smith. Everything he touches turns to shit and everyone he ever cares about end up hurt or dead. Maybe there’s a reason his own mother didn’t even want anything to do with him.”

“You think you’re the only person to have lost someone?”

Ross’ head whipped up at the sound of the second voice, with a pained ‘Fuck’, Ross began to lower his leg to the floor. Smith pushed a hand against his chest to keep him where he was. “Don’t move, you need to rest it.” Smith said firmly before pushing himself to his feet. “Keep an eye on her for me?”

Ross nodded and Smith left the room.

*********

Smith hurried into the room. Lewis and Trott we’re standing only a foot apart practically screaming in each other’s faces. “What the fuck is going on here?” Smith asked, using a hand on Trott’s shoulder to pull him partially behind him.

“Here he fucking is!” Lewis shouted. “Immortal Alex Smith.” Lewis spat. “Nothing can fucking kill him.”

Smith turned away from Lewis, ignoring him. “Come on, Trott. We should go back to Ross.”

“You fucking coward!” Lewis baited. “You won’t even look at me, you fucking piece of shit.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Lewis.” Smith answered, finally looking at the shorter man.

“Nothing to say to me?” Lewis roared. “You fucking waltz in here like nothing happened and you have nothing to say?”

“What do you want me to say? Smith asked, his voice lower than Lewis’ had been. “He was my best friend!”

Lewis took a step towards him, his hands clenched into fists. “I fucking loved him.”

“So did I!” Smith shot back. “He was like a fucking brother to me and he died and it fucking destroyed me but I made him a fucking promise and I couldn’t just ignore that.”

“It was your idea to go into that fucking pub, your idea to split up!” Lewis said. “If you had just fucking waited and checked and not fucking rushed in.”

Trott slapped Smith’s hand away that was shielding him from Lewis. “You think that’s his fault?” Trott argued back. “That he wanted it to happen?”

Lewis ignored Trott and jabbed a finger at Smith’s chest. “He wasn’t the only one you made promises to, Smith.” Lewis shouted. “You promised me that you would bring him back to me, that you would keep him safe when I wasn’t around!”

“I tried!” Smith said back to him. “I tried so fucking hard to keep all of us safe all the fucking time.” 

“Not fucking hard enough!” Lewis yelled. “You’re fucking toxic, Alex. If you had even a shred of human decency then you would leave your new friends before you get them killed too.” 

Trott intervened again. “We can make our own decisions, thanks.” 

“That’s what we thought, too.” Lewis said to Trott. “He’s dangerous to be around, it’s only fair that you know that before you take another step with him.” 

Trott scoffed at him, rolling his eyes. 

“You’re mother had the right idea.” Lewis said, poking at Smith’s chest again. “Getting away from you before she had the chance to see what a worthless piece of shit she spawned.” 

Turps stepped up, pulling Lewis by the shoulder to get him out of Smith’s face. “Lewis, that enough.” 

With an aggressive shrug of his shoulder, Lewis detached himself from Turps. “It should have been you.” He practically growled at Smith before pushing past, ramming the taller man with his shoulder and disappearing out of the door to the front of building.


	24. Hit and Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little steamy for Smith and Ross. (Not graphic)

Trott followed after Smith as he walked off in the opposite direction, leading them both back to where Ross and Twat were still sitting on the floor.

“What the fuck happened?” Ross asked noting the hollow look in Smith’s eyes and the anger on Trott’s.

Trott opened his mouth to start ranting but Smith stopped him with a raised hand. “Don’t, Trott. Please.”

Trott blew out a frustrated stream of air. “Fine.” He said, resting his left hand on the handle of the door. “I’m going to take Twat for a piss then go find that dog stuff Martyn mentioned.”

“Dog stuff?” Ross asked.

Trott pushed the handle down, waiting for Twat to limp her way over to him before opening the door. “Yeah, they found some dog food and treats when they got here.”

Smith watched as Trott left with Twat. “He isn’t mad at you.” Ross supplied. “He likes to tell me I’m too good because I forgive easily, but he’s the one with the strict ideas of right and wrong.” Ross explained. “And he holds a grudge.” The dark haired man added after a beat. “He hates that life isn’t always fair, that the good guys don’t always win.”

Smith sighed. “He’s an idealist.”

“A cynical idealist. It’s a great combination.” Ross laughed. “People mistake it for him not caring but really, he cares too much.”

Smith ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the wall before sliding down to sit next to Ross who had moved his leg off the chair and instead had it resting on his backpack. “I’m starting to see that.” Smith admitted. “He really stuck up for me in there. Even if I didn’t deserve it.”

Ross turned his body a little to face Smith more. “Come on Smith, you can’t seriously believe you deserved what that prick said to you?”

“He has his reasons.” Smith answered. “And he wasn’t really wrong.”

“Fuck off!” Ross protested. “You are not responsible for what happened to Tom or-“

“Can we not?” Smith asked, his voice quiet. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ross nodded. “What do you want to talk about instead? I’m not exactly in top condition for a rousing game of golf right now.” He said gesturing to the far corner where a bag stood, full of clubs. 

Smith let out an amused breath, turning his body towards Ross to look at him. “And now you’ve ruined my plans for this evening, I’m not sure how this day could get any worse.”

Ross took a sharp intake of breath. Smith was so close to him, his upper body leaning into Ross’ personal space. Ross could feel the warmth of Smith’s body from their proximity. “I’m sure we could think of something to destroy our last shreds of sanity and dignity.” Ross said, his voice quiet and low.

The dark haired man could feel Smith’s eyes roaming his face, seeming to study every facet of it. Ross’ breath caught as their eyes met, Smith’s stare was intense as they inched close enough to share breath. “I thought of something.” Smith whispered as his hand cupped the side of Ross’ face and he pressed their lips together.

Ross smiled into the kiss and Smith took the opportunity presented by Ross’ parted lips to deepen it into something that made both men’s hearts pound in their chests. 

Smith swivelled more until he was on his knees, lifting one leg he placed it between Ross’ straddling the dark haired man’s thigh before breaking the kiss. 

Ross’ eyes were dark with desire, his breathing sped up from their activities. “We shouldn’t-“ Ross started to say only to be silenced by Smith claiming his mouth once again. One of Ross’ hands found Smith’s face and brushed the hair back from Smith’s forehead, running his splayed fingers through the taller man’s lighter locks. 

Smith’s one hand teased at the skin on Ross’ side, his fingers brushing under Ross’ shirt. A few minutes passed with the two men practically pawing at each other before Smith broke away. “Let me forget, just for a little while.” He whispered against Ross’ mouth before pressing more kisses to Ross’ lips. Ross moaned into Smith’s mouth as Smith pushed his shirt higher, bunching it around his chest. “I want to make you feel good, Ross.” He said pulling off Ross’ shirt. 

“Fuck.” Ross panted, fisting Smith’s hair in his hand as Smith trailed kisses over his cheek and onto his neck, teeth gently scraping stubble before sucking firmly on a patch of skin just under Ross’ ear. “Yes, Alex.” Ross moaned, as Smith’s free hand inched up his thigh. 

********

Trott’s anger almost completely dissipated once he was outside with Twat. Watching her limp around at his side trying to comfort him with occasional presses of her wet nose to his clenched fist made the man calm quickly.

It also made him think. Think about the things that he had been pushing and pushing away with everything he had. He had come face to face with someone who had lost their love and it hurt to even look at. 

Grief washed over him, a grief born of what if’s and speculation. If Katie was gone, what would he be like? Lashing out at his friends? So caught up in his own pain that he needed to unleash it onto those around him instead of letting them in to grieve with him? No. Trott rejected the idea. He knew that Ross would be as destroyed as him and the thought of hurting Ross was as repugnant as hurting Katie. Trott would not stoop that low. 

Katie had to be to okay. She had to be. Surely he would know if she wasn’t? Somehow, deep down, he would know if she was gone like in all those TV shows and movies. 

Trott pushed his hair away from his face and walked to the main building. Twat was probably hungry and it was easier to concentrate on feeding the dog, rather than being stuck in his own head. 

“Come on, girl.” Trott said, tapping at his thigh. “Let’s go find you some food.” 

Walking back into the building, he was relieved to find that Lewis was nowhere in sight. Trott made a beeline for where Martyn was in conversation with Duncan and Barry. “Hey.” Trott greeted, taking a seat around the table.

The three men greeted Trott, Duncan eyeing him for a moment. “How’s Smith?” Martyn asked. 

“You know him?” Trott said as Twat settled down on the floor beside his chair. 

Duncan shook his head. “No.” 

“We’ve just heard enough about him that we might as well have known him for years.” Barry clarified. “Tom and Smith were all Turps and Lewis used to talk about.”

Martyn snorted. “If you call screaming matches talking.” 

Trott sighed and sat back in his seat. “You shouldn’t believe everything that Lewis says.” 

Barry shrugged. “We don’t.” He said. “Hell, he doesn’t most of the time either. He’s just angry.” 

“It’s not Smith’s fault.” Trott pressed. 

Duncan leant forward, his elbows on the table. “Lewis does know that. It’s just easier to be angry and blame Smith than to deal with Tom being gone.” He explained. “And now that Smith’s here, he’s being forced to deal with it.” 

Trott raised his eyebrows at Duncan. “You’re defending what he said?” 

“No.” Duncan denied. “He shouldn’t have said the things he did and all of us here will kick his arse ourselves if he doesn’t apologise, but you have to understand that Lewis is the reason we’re all here. He has saved our lives more times than I want to count and we won’t just turn our backs on him without a second chance.”

“Give Lewis some time.” Martyn added. “You guys aren’t going anywhere any time soon by the looks of your friend’s leg. Just keep Lewis and Smith away from each other until Lewis is ready to face him.” 

Trott nodded, understanding that more fighting would not be good for anyone. “You said you had dog stuff?” He asked. 

Barry nodded. “It’s in a cupboard in the kitchen. Wait here and I’ll go grab it and a bowl for you.” 

Trott nodded his thanks as Barry left. “How long have you guys been together?” 

Duncan answered him. “Turps, Lewis, Mark and Nina we’re already together from the original base where Tom and Smith were.” He started. “They found me and Hannah not long after they lost Tom, down in Thornbury. We had left the Bristol base and we’re trying to get to the midlands to Hannah’s family.” 

Martyn took up the thread. “That’s where they found me, Barry and Simon just outside Leicester.” 

“Did Hannah find her family?” Trott asked, looking between the two men’s faces as Barry re-joined them. 

“Pieces of them.” Barry said, throwing a look over his shoulder to where Hannah sat alone, sharpening what Trott could only describe as a machete. “Where exactly were you going when we ran into you anyway?” Barry asked, placing a bowl full of food on the floor where Twat dug in eagerly. 

“We’re trying to get to Glasgow.” Trott said, keeping his eyes on the table so that he wouldn’t be able to see their judging stares. “My girlfriend- She’s up there.” 

Duncan’s voice was soft when he spoke. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but the Glasgow base hadn’t checked in for weeks now. Word is that it’s gone, just like Norwich and Swansea.” 

“I know.” Trott said, finally looking up to meet Duncan’s eye. “But if we’re all here and alive then there’s a chance that she made it out too.” 

**********

Smith pulled his shirt back on quickly, avoiding Ross’ eyes and standing. He turned his back on the other man as he finished getting dressed, forgoing socks and shoving his bare feet into his boots. 

“Smith, where are you going?” Ross asked, the blanket pooling at his waist as he sat forward. The man in question didn’t answer, instead he opened the door. “Don’t just run off!” The door closed with a resounding ‘bang’ “Alex?!” 

Smith took a few steps away from the door, making his way outside and around the building where some benches stood against the wall. He collapsed onto one, his head buried in his hands. “Fuck.” He muttered. “So fucking stupid.” 

He wanted to hit something. Preferably his own stupid face. How could he do that to Ross? Lewis was right. He was dangerous. He destroyed people. Always had. 

Smith squeezed his eyes shut, both hands fisting in his hair. He had used Ross. Used him to gratify his own fucking narcissistic need to prove that he could please someone, that he wasn’t a useless piece of shit who only knew how to hurt. 

Ross would never forgive him for this. How could he? And Trott, god- he would be furious when he found out. Smith couldn’t take the look that he knew would have been on Ross’ face. Judgement. Betrayal. That’s what Smith had done. Betrayed any scrap of anything that Ross might have felt for him. 

Fucking up wasn’t anything new, it was a constant in his life since he was a child. Bad decisions seemed to flow from him like an unstoppable torrent of a burst pipe, time and time again he took wrong turns. 

Toxic. That’s what Lewis had called him. It really couldn’t have been any more true in that moment. 

He should leave, he caused nothing but trouble to those around him. No one wanted him in the place they were now, he wouldn’t be surprised if Twat wouldn’t miss him as she had become close to both Ross and Trott. The two friends would take much better care of the dog than he ever could have, they would keep each other safe – the three of them. 

He couldn’t leave without supplies. Supplies were the difference between living and dying and whilst the thought of having everything end and finally resting sounded like bliss, he knew that he didn’t deserve that. Lewis might have been right that it should have been him gone and Tom still alive but he had been wrong about Smith being a coward, dying was not what he deserved now. Now he deserved every pain filled moment, every crushing second of guilt, every single minute of torture that life brought his way.


	25. In the middle

Ross struggled to dress from his position on the ground. Lifting his hips off the floor to pull his jeans back up around his hips before throwing on a t shirt and getting a bandage from his bag to tightly wrap his ankle. 

With difficulty and the help of the chair, Ross hauled himself to his feet. Leaning on the wall to hop over to the door and out into the corridor. 

Trott met him in the hall, a look of shock on his face that quickly became a huge grin. “You fucking dirty whore.” He teased. “It better not stink of sex in there, I have to sleep in there too you know.” 

“Have you seen Smith?” Ross asked, ignoring Trott’s ribbing. 

Trott huffed in amusement. “No, but apparently you have. All of him.” He winked. “Don’t think I can’t see right through you, Ross. Is he still in there naked or something?” He asked shaking his head in amusement. “He really did a number on your neck.” 

Ross brought his hand up and felt the area Trott pointed to, the skin was hot and tender under his fingers, bruising evident under his fingers. Ross limped forward, heading for the door that led out into the beer garden. 

Trott grabbed him as he tried to pass, shoving his shoulder under his best friend’s armpit to help him to a bench. “You shouldn’t be moving around on that.” He scolded gently, knowing that Ross wouldn’t listen to him but saying it anyway.

“We need to find Smith.” Ross said, as soon as he lowered himself onto the bench. “He’s probably going to go do something stupid.” 

Trott dropped the smile, finally realising that Ross was being serious. “What happened?” 

Ross sighed. “He kissed me and I went to stop him but he-“ Ross thought for a moment. “-He said he wanted to forget for a little while.” 

“I’ll fucking kill him.” Trott said through gritted teeth, springing to his feet. 

Ross grabbed his arm. “Don’t be a fucking prick, Trott.” Ross said pulling him until he sat down. “It wasn’t like that. I wanted to and I knew exactly what both of us we’re doing.” 

“He used you.” Trott said, malice lacing his tone. 

“We used each other.” Ross countered. “After, he wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t talk to me. He just up and left and whilst we don’t know that much about him, we do know what guilt leads him to.” 

“Fuck.” Trott swore. “What do we do?” 

“Where’s Twat?” Ross asked, noticing for the first time that the dog was not still with Trott. 

Trott shrugged. “That’s why I was coming back, she wandered off and I figured she wanted to check on you and Smith.” 

*********  
Smith scrubbed at his face and stood from the bench, swallowing down his emotions and blinking away the tears that were threatening to fall. “Fucking, get it together.” He whispered to himself, running a hand through his hair before blowing out a long breath.

He needed his bag, there were too many important things in that bag for him to leave it behind. Too many memories hidden within its pockets. Tom’s laser pen, pictures, small things that would mean less than nothing to someone else but were all Smith had left of his time with his best friend. 

That bags contents were more important than Smith’s dignity, more important than the pain that looking at Ross would cause. With long, even strides that went against the quaking of his knees Smith made his way back around the building and into the store room only to find it empty of people. 

Ross was nowhere to be found. Smith almost cracked a smile at his luck, snatching up his bag and opening it. He refilled the main pocket of the bag with some of the water bottles stacked in the corner and a few cans of food. 

Layering his hoodie and a waterproof over his body, he swung the rucksack onto his back, pushed the door back open and headed outside. 

The sun was warm on his head as he skirted the building, hopping a fence into a garden that backed onto the car park. Smith hopped more fences, steadily making his way further and further away from the restaurant and into the village. 

*********

Trott made his way through the building, checking each room for Smith before skirting the perimeter in search of the taller man. He was only able to get Ross to agree to sit down with Twat and rest if he went and sought out Smith. Something that was proving harder than he had thought. 

Movement caught his eye as he finished circling the property, something flashing in his peripheral vision that was gone as soon as he turned his head. Trott ran for the fence, trying to keep his feet light on the ground. 

Peeking over the fence, Trott saw Smith a few gardens over, climbing to get to the next without looking back. 

Trott wasn’t that short. Not really, in the grand scheme of things. He just happened to be surrounded by abnormally tall friends and although the jokes about his height sometimes wore thin, he never usually let him bother him, but these fences were stupidly high and climbing them was much more of a challenge for someone who could barely touch the top of them without jumping.

He struggled over more fences, his breath coming in short pants as he gained on Smith. 

With one garden separating them, he finally called out. Breaking Smith out of his own head and into the moment. “Smith!” He shouted. “Stop!” 

Smith whirled around, meeting Trott’s eye as Trott vaulted over the last fence and was able to walk up to the other man. 

Smith looked away from Trott, leaning against a shed and folding his arms. “What do you want?” 

Trott raised his eyebrows at Smith. “What do I want?” He asked shaking his head. “I want the world to stop being so hard, I want my family back, I want Katie in my arms.” He ranted, still out of breath. “Right now, I want you to stop and think about what the fuck you are doing.” 

“You think I haven’t thought about this?” Smith asked. 

Trott bit his lip to stop himself screaming at the other man. “Okay, I want you to stop and think about it in a fucking rational way where you fucking talk to people about what the fuck is going on and don’t just run off.” 

Smith quirked an eyebrow. “No reason?” He asked. He huffed a breath that was full of disgust. “Speak to Ross and then maybe you’ll see things differently.” Smith said unfolding his arms and taking a step towards the fence. 

Trott rushed forwards, his hand closing around Smith’s forearm to stop him going further. 

“Take your fucking hand off me.” Smith warned through gritted teeth. 

Trott ignored his words. “I have talked to Ross.” 

Smith shook his arm out of Trott’s hold. “Then, what? You here to beat me into a bloody pulp, Short Stuff?” 

“As tempting as literally knocking some fucking sense into your thick head is, no.” Trott answered. “Ross isn’t exactly in the best shape to be doing an assault course to chase after you and I’ll be fucked if I let you hurt him by leaving.” 

“You don’t get it.” Smith said, his voice flat. “I’m leaving to protect him.” 

Trott snorted in amusement. “How about you try that one again, Sunshine? Maybe with a little more feeling?” Smith stared at Trott, a scowl on his face. “No more to say?” Trott asked, mocking. “Good.” He said. “Now sit your arse down and listen very carefully, because what I am about to say is not to be taken lightly or dismissed out of turn.” Trott instructed, pointing to a low wall closer to the house. 

Smith stood still for a moment, defiant. Trott waited, staring right back at the taller man and not moving an inch. Smith huffed in frustration, practically stomping over to the wall and sitting himself down. 

Trott followed Smith, standing in front of him once he seated himself. It was like dealing with a petulant child, in Trott’s opinion. The men were silent for a few moments as Trott tried to calm his thoughts enough to speak sense to the man opposite him. 

“I know that everything is fucked up.” Trott started, looking down at his feet. “And it’s not hard to figure out why you left.” Trott said, pre-empting Smith’s planned interruption with a hand in the air. “I can’t even imagine what seeing Lewis again feels like but pushing us away is not going to help. Ross knows why you did what you did, he knew what he was agreeing to.” 

“He tried to stop me.” Smith said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t let him, Trott. I’m-“ 

“Stop.” Trott instructed. “Do not finish that sentence.” 

“I violated his-“ 

“You fooled around with someone and it meant more to them than to you, that isn’t a fucking crime, Smith.” Trott interrupted, noting Smith’s face twitch at his words. “Don’t get me wrong, if you break his heart then I will break your face but he’s a fucking grown man and can make his own decisions.” He continued. “You don’t get to make them for him and neither do I.” 

“I don’t want to hurt him.” Smith admitted, meeting Trott’s eye for the first time since sitting down. 

“Then don’t.” Trott said, simply. “He isn’t expecting you to confess your undying love for him.” 

“What is he expecting then?” Smith asked, sounding unsure. 

Trott snorted a laugh. “I don’t fucking know.” He said. “If I had to guess, he wouldn’t want you to leave. Even if nothing ever happens again between you two, he’d not want what happened to ruin the friendship you guys have.” 

“What about you?” Smith asked. 

“To talk to him.” He said. “I’m not such an optimist that I think stuff can always go back to how it was before something like this, but you should both at least try and talk about it.” 

Smith’s head bobbed in a small nod. “I’m not sure I know what to say to him.” 

“Sorry might be a good start.” Trott said, walking a step forward and sitting on the wall next to Smith. “Other than that, you have to be honest with him, with both of us. You need to stop pushing all this shit down and deal with some of it before you completely self-destruct.” 

“I’m not sure I know how to do that.” Smith admitted. 

Trott chuckled. “No shit Sherlock.” He said, sarcasm lacing his voice. “Maybe start by being honest with yourself.” 

Smith turned his body to better look at the man next to him. “I am.” 

Trott shook his head. “No, you’re not.” He argued. “A couple of minutes ago, I said something that made you flinch but you didn’t try to correct me.” Smith raised a brow but otherwise seemed none the wiser about what Trott was referring to. “I said that Ross cares more about you than he does to you and you flinched, which makes me think I might have been wrong about that.” 

Smith sighed. “He deserves better than me.” 

A small smile lifted Trott’s lips. “He’s my best friend, no one is really good enough for him.” Trott said. “But he is a good judge of character and he has done a lot worse before now.” 

Smith barked a laugh. “Worse? How is that possible?” 

“Manipulative older married man.” Trott explained. “Constantly promising he was going to leave his wife for him. He never did.” 

Smith scrubbed at his face. “Nice to know that selfish prick is his type, I suppose.” 

Trott rolled his eyes. “I’m not here to play a part in your pity party.” He said. “Everyone has baggage, Smith. Ross knows that better than most and luckily for both you and me, he is the forgiving type.” Trott said, standing from the wall. 

Smith stood too, shifting his rucksack into a more comfortable position and following the other man to the fence that they had both clambered over earlier. 

Neither man spoke as they climbed over the fences back to the restaurant until they were both standing in the carpark. “I’m going to go speak to some more of the people here.” Trott said. “Ross’ back in the storeroom, come find me when you’re done.” 

Smith nodded, not saying anything as Trott walked into the building.


	26. Damage Control

Ross tried not to think as he waited for Trott to come back, his fingers carding through Twat’s fur. 

The dog had returned only a couple of minutes after Trott left and Ross had hopped over to the door to let her inside where she say down next to him with her head on his thigh and fell into a light doze, comforting him with her solid weight and warmth next to him. 

One thing that Ross couldn’t decide was if he should be grateful that he understood why Smith had done what he had. Both fooling around with Ross and then running from it afterwards. Ross knew what it felt like to be unwanted, he knew how hard it was to unlearn that behaviour and what those feelings could drive someone to. 

It was scary to let another person in. To let yourself be vulnerable and trust in someone, there were so many ways that person could hurt you once you lowered your barriers, and sometimes it wasn’t even their fault. Sometimes it was something else that made the relationship fail, something that neither party had any control over and that was terrifying. 

The dark haired man couldn’t even fathom what Smith must feel like on a daily basis. So many things had gone wrong since the outbreak for him and yet, if the shouts from earlier we’re anything to go on then it seemed like Smith’s suffering had been happening for much longer than Ross had ever thought. 

Ross knew that being a parent didn’t mean you were a good one. His own hadn’t been the most accepting or loving in the world and yet it now looked like Smith had never even had a mother. Ross had the memories from being a small child to fall back on, memories that were from way before his family found out about his sexuality and disowned him. He had a mother who would kiss his hurts and tuck him in at night. He had a father who had taken him to football matches and taught him to ride a bike. Had Smith had any of those things? 

He was no child development expert in any sense, but even he knew that having a messed up childhood could lead to issues later in life. If what Lewis had shouted was true, that Smith’s mom had left him as a child then it was no wonder that the man had built up solid walls around himself. 

It struck Ross then, just how little he really knew about the other man’s past. Ross and Trott had spoken about their shared history and their childhoods. Stories and stupid situations spilling from their lips as they travelled to keep the monotony at bay but Smith had rarely contributed with tales of his own. 

 

Ross’ musings were interrupted by a timid knock on the door. “Come in, Trott.” Ross called, waking Twat from her slumber with the noise. 

The dog perked up immediately as the door opened and Smith let himself inside with his head bowed. “Trott’s gone to talk to the guys inside.” Smith explained, standing in the middle of the room and leaning down slightly to stroke at Twat’s head. 

The dark haired man pulled his good leg up and wrapped his arms around his knee, leaving his injured one outstretched and elevated on his backpack. “Can you sit down?” Ross asked. “I’m going to get a crick in my neck looking up at you standing around.” 

Smith nodded, slipping his arms out of his backpack and placing it in the corner of the room next to Trott’s before sitting himself down on the floor opposite Ross, his legs crossed and his hands resting on his shins. 

Twat settled herself in the corner, curled up on the blankets they had laid out for her when they had first arrived. Neither man said anything for a while, Ross studying Smith as Smith stared at the floor between him and Ross, his hand gripping then loosening on his ankles as time went on.

Ross leant his chin on his knee and let out a long breath that was just short of being a sigh as Smith looked around the room at everything except Ross, trying to order his thoughts into some semblance of coherence but failing miserably with the memory of Ross’ lips and hands still blazing trails through his mind. 

The dark haired man cleared his throat before speaking. “I’m not going to lie to you and pretend that what happened between us wasn’t what I wanted.” Ross confessed quietly. “But I do understand if you don’t feel the same.” 

Smith lifted his head and looked at Ross who offered him a gentle smile. “I’m not a good person, Ross.” Smith said. “I’ve never been a good person.” 

“I don’t believe that.” Ross said. “A bad person wouldn’t be so cut up about his best friend’s death. A bad person wouldn’t cry about a child dying when there was no other way. A bad person wouldn’t rescue two incompetent idiots and sacrifice their own safety to help those same two twats get to where they needed to go.” 

Smith shook his head in denial. “I did those things so I wouldn’t have to be alone.” 

Ross wet his lips. “Doing things for yourself and helping others aren’t mutually exclusive.” He argued. “We do what we have to, to keep ourselves and those we care about safe. There isn’t room in this world for anything else now.” 

“The world coming to an end didn’t do this to me.” Smith said. “It just let me get away with it without people judging me as much.” 

“A bad person wouldn’t be sitting here arguing with me that they’re bad.” 

*********

Trott wound his way back into the building, exhaustion overcoming him as he slumped into a seat once he got inside. Chasing after Smith was not something that he thought they would be doing after the last time he had gone off alone. It was apparent that Smith was even more damaged that Trott had originally thought, Ross had somehow known though. 

Ross always seemed to know what made people tick, it was lucky that his experiences in life hadn’t turned him bitter or angry like Lewis and Smith. Trott didn’t even want to contemplate how completely Ross could destroy someone with his insights, should he ever choose to. 

Trott slipped his bag off his shoulders and leant forwards, folding his arms on the table and placing his face on them. Trott closed his eyes, trying to bring forward images of fiery red hair and rich blue eyes. 

The man dozed for a moment, caught up in a space between waking and sleep when a small clunk made his head shoot up. 

“Sorry if I woke you.” Turps said, pushing a mug towards Trott’s hand. “I thought you might want some tea.” 

Trott accepted the cup with a nod and wrapped both his hands around it. 

“I wanted to apologise.” Turps said, lowering himself to a chair opposite Trott. “And to let you know that I am not here to make more excuses for Lewis.” 

“But?” Trott asked, lifting his mug to take a sip of the hot liquid. 

Turps shook his head. “But nothing.” He said. “I also want to speak to Alex, apologise to him about everything.” Trott raised his eyebrows so Turps continued. “I don’t want to cause any arguments and so I thought I would maybe leave that until tomorrow, and was wondering if you could let him know that I want to talk?” 

Trott hummed a noncommittal noise. “I’ll tell him, but if he doesn’t want to-“ 

“Then I’ll drop it.” Turps interrupted. “I can’t and don’t want to force him to do anything.” 

Trott nodded in acceptance at Turps’ words. “Is Lewis back yet?” Trott asked. 

“Why? Do you want to talk to him? I’m not sure that’s a good-“ 

Trott shook his head. “No.” He said. “I don’t want to have anything to do with him.” He confirmed. “But I know that it would destroy any last bits of Smith that are left if Lewis dies out there because of their argument.” 

Turps smiled slightly. “He’ll be fine.” He said. “Simon went after him, they’re staying in one of the houses in the village until morning.” 

Trott continued to take sips from his mug. “I’m sorry about Tom.” Trott said, after a minute or so of silence. “And any of the others from the base.” 

Turps nodded absentmindedly. “Thanks.” He said. “Mark and Nina said you’re heading up to Glasgow to look for someone?” Turps continued, changing the subject.

*********

“You keep trying to scare me off.” Ross said. “I get why, but you should know that it isn’t going to work on me.” 

“I’m starting to see that.” Smith replied. “I don’t understand it, but I see it.” He continued. 

The two men descended into silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts until Smith swallowed and then spoke.

“I’m sorry.” He said looking at Ross. “About what I did and for trying to leave.” 

Ross met his eyes. “I accept you apology for leaving, but I can’t for the rest. Not when I don’t think you did anything wrong.” 

Smith sighed in frustration, a hand automatically coming up to fist in his hair. “Why?” Smith asked.

“Because I don’t regret it.” Ross answered. “It’s selfish and maybe it isn’t the right thing but I wanted what happened, I want you.” 

“No you don’t.” Smith said, his voice almost pleading. “I’m broken, Ross. Probably completely beyond repair.” 

“We all are.” Ross argued. “Some of us more than others but no one is whole anymore Smith. We all have cracks and holes in us, we’re held together by our own will and any small amount of love and faith that we can scrounge up in this fucking shit show.” He continued. “And if I have to be the one willing you to stay together because you can’t do it yourself then I will.” 

“You shouldn’t.” Smith said, looking away from the intensity of Ross’ gaze. 

Ross snorted in fake amusement. “If you break out the ‘I’m not worthy’ card then I have no issues with punching you.” 

Smith huffed a laugh. “Trott said something similar, about beating some sense into my thick skull.” 

Ross leant back against the wall, folding his arms. “I mean- it’s the only thing we haven’t tried, talking to you doesn’t seem to have any effect.” He joked. “Maybe slapping you around a bit will.”

“Kinky.” Smith said, raising a brow and smirking before catching himself and dropping the suggestive look. 

“Don’t do that.” Ross said, making it sound like a question. “You’re still allowed to make rude jokes and smile.” He said unfolding his arms and placing one hand on the floor next to him whilst the other went back to hugging his knee against his chest. 

“And flirting with you?” Smith asked, trying not to fidget under the other man’s gaze. 

Ross swallowed, taking a couple of beats to answer the other man. “That depends.” 

“On what?” Smith asked, locking eyes with Ross. 

“If you mean it or not.” 

Smith shifted forwards, breaking eye contact and shuffling himself closer to Ross, placing his hand barely a centimetre from where Ross’ rested on the floor. “Why couldn’t I have met you before all of this?” Smith asked. “Maybe then I would have been able to give you what you want, what you deserve.” 

Ross took shallow breaths, trying to keep as still as possible as if Smith would retreat at any moment like a frightened rabbit. “That wasn’t an answer.” Ross pushed. 

Smith’s eyes were red around the edges, wetness gathering but not spilling over. His voice cracked as he spoke. “It scares me how much I want you.” He confessed. 

Ross needed no further encouragement, leaning to the side and ignoring the shooting pains in his ankle as he took Smith’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together.


	27. Childhoods

Smith couldn’t remember sleeping that well since before the world had gone to shit. 

He remembered trying to stay awake so he could luxuriate in the feeling of lying with his ear pressed to Ross' chest whilst the dark haired man ran his fingers through his hair. Smith's knee had been thrown over Ross' good leg, pressing the entire length of his body against Ross' side. It was warm and comfortable and he felt safer than he ever had in his life. He probably only lasted ten or so minutes before his eyes fluttered shut. The next thing he knew, it was morning and Ross was shifting awake beneath him. 

"Where's Trott?" Smith asked with a yawn as he untangled himself from Ross and sat up. 

Ross rubbed at his eyes and looked to where Trott had been the previous night, curled up in a corner with Twat pressed into his back. He shrugged before lying back down and stretching, his back arching off the bed as he let out a contented sigh. “Must have gone for breakfast.” 

Smith swiped his hand through his hair a few times, trying to flatten it into some semblance of order without being able to see what he was doing. “Breakfast sounds good.” 

Ross hummed in agreement. 

**********

It had hurt. 

He knew it was stupid. Knew it was irrational and selfish and unfair but he had been unable to stay in the room with Smith and Ross any longer. 

Seeing Ross sleep with a smile ghosting across his features had sent a pang of jealousy like a spear through his stomach. Missing Katie was like a physical pain by now. An empty feeling in his chest that ached and throbbed with loneliness made worse by seeing the two men wrapped up in each other. 

Trott wasn’t sure if he was happy for Ross. He wanted to see his friend happy, fuck knows he deserved to be happy but everything was so uncertain and Trott could only think about the what if’s. What if Smith died? What would that do to Ross? What if they fell out? Broke up whilst on the road? Would either stay in a failing relationship just because the only other choice was to leave and be completely alone? 

He knew he was being stupid. The rest of the journey to Glasgow should only take another two weeks at the most, the new relationship novelty stage wouldn’t have even worn off by then so the likelihood of them getting into serious fights was pretty low. 

Further self-deprecating thoughts left his head as the two men he had been thinking about made their way into the room. Ross’ arm was wrapped around Smith’s shoulder as he supported the slightly shorter man into the room and over to where Trott had taken up residence at an out of the way table. 

Contradictory to his feeling just moments before, he couldn’t help but smile at the way Ross wouldn’t meet his eye or the slight blush to his best friend’s cheeks when Smith leant over and whispered something in his ear. 

“You’re both absolutely nauseating. You know that right?” Trott asked as Smith helped Ross into a chair. 

“Fuck off.” Ross said. “After the amount of times I walked in on you and Katie doing something I didn’t want to see, it’s finally your turn to suffer.” 

Trott pulled a face. “You make it sound like we we’re banging on the kitchen table.” 

Smith laughed. “I mean, if that happened then I am all for revenge. What do you reckon, Ross?” He asked with a wink to the dark haired man. 

Ross’ eyes widened and he spluttered. “No.” He said. 

“Oh my god.” Trott said, leaning forwards with an elbow on the table. “You’re a cottager.” He accused with a smirk. 

Smith snorted a laugh. “Sure.” He agreed sarcastically. “Glory holes are my thing.” He said. “It’s a bit shit since the whole end of the world thing though, it’s hard to find a good drill and half the time you’re risking an infected munching away at your knob but that’s what makes it so exciting.” 

“Extreme danger wanking during the apocalypse.” Trott added. “Not just risking being caught by someone, but someone who will legit eat your dick.” 

Ross looked from Smith to Trott and shook his head. “What the fuck did I do to deserve friends like you two?” He asked, no one really knew if he was being sarcastic or not. 

**********

A couple of days passed. Trott had been spending a lot of time with the others in Hell Base Oscar, leaving Smith and Ross to their own devices and hoping the time would help Ross heal faster and also get any of the nauseating affectionate talk out of their system before they had to go back on the road. 

Smith and Ross talked a lot, interspersed with physical activities that were much more reminiscent of horny teenagers than people in their twenties. Ross would blame the lack of anything else to do for their behaviour whereas Smith would protest that it wasn’t his fault Ross was so irresistible that he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. 

It was much too easy to lose themselves in each other and forget everything else going on in the world outside. Too easy to give into feelings and forget logic and practicalities. 

Still, in the moments when Ross was able to think, he was stuck on one thought. The words that Lewis had screamed at Smith days before and what it really meant for the man he cared for so much. There was obviously truth to what had been said, Smith would have had no problem calling Lewis out had the information been false, but he hadn’t. 

Smith wasn’t the most forthright about his past, most of the things that Ross knew about his life had been told under extreme stress when it seemed like if Smith hadn’t talked he would have imploded. The talks they had, had back at the flats had been a release, an untightening of a valve to let out the steam that would otherwise destroyed Smith completely. 

Ross was reluctant to bring it up. To burst the happy bubble they had been living in for the last two days and let darkness creep back into their world, but he knew they would have to. Smith obviously needed to talk about whatever it was if his first reaction was to do something that was self-destructive yet again. Ross couldn’t let him carry on the cycle. 

The three men had gone to breakfast on the third day together before Trott excused himself from Ross and Smith’s company. Ross suggested a short walk outside to gently exercise his healing ankle, Smith happily accompanying him along with Twat who sniffed around bushes and trees. 

Ross led them over to the edge of the grounds where he sat down at the top of the sloping incline that overlooked parts of the nearby town. He rotated his ankle, smiling slightly when it was only mildly uncomfortable rather than the lancing pains that had still been present just the day before. 

Smith sat down next to Ross, arms extended behind him so he could lean back a little, his face upturned with his eyes closed, being warmed by the sun. Ross watched him for a moment, his eyes roaming over Smith’s face. 

“I can feel you looking at me.” Smith said, his eyes still closed but a smile lifting his lips. 

Ross smiled too. “Don’t pretend you don’t love the attention.” 

Smith huffed a laugh and opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Ross. “You can ask me, you know?” 

“Ask you what?” Ross said, leaning back to mirror Smith’s pose, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. 

Smith turned his head away, eyes staring out at the view laid out before them. “About what Lewis said.” Smith answered. “About my mother.” 

“It’s not really any of my business.” Ross replied. 

Smith shrugged. “What was yours like?” He asked, still looking into the distance. 

“Trott hates my parents.” Ross said, as if that would explain. “But they were my parents, I can’t seem to bring myself to feel like that about them.” He said.

“I’m guessing they weren’t the best then, if Trott didn’t like them?” Smith prodded gently. 

Ross stopped lounging, sitting up and drawing one leg to his chest and wrapping an arm around it. “They were old school.” Ross tried to explain. “Traditional, I suppose. They always expected me to finish school, go to uni, get some conventional job and work my way up in some huge company. They wanted me to meet some girl, get married and have her pop out a couple of kids.” Ross paused for a couple of seconds. “I should probably have seen it before I did. They had never been super explicit about their prejudices but the signs were there.” 

“Homophobic?” Smith guessed, shuffling a little closer to the dark haired man so he could more easily reach for Ross’ hand if he needed it. 

Ross nodded. “And sexist and racist and any other sort of ‘ist’ you can think of probably. They started looking into those conversion camps in America and so the next time we spoke about it and they asked, I told them it had been a phase and I was better.” 

“Seriously?” Smith asked, his eyebrows drawn together. 

“Yeah.” Ross nodded. “I covered my walls with pictures of half-naked women and made sure to talk about girls occasionally. I knew my only real chance of being able to do what I wanted later in life was if I went to uni and got a degree.” Ross said. “So I pretended to be straight even when I went off to uni. I wouldn’t have been able to afford to go without my dad’s money paying for stuff.” 

“They we’re pricks, Ross.” Smith said, hearing the guilt lacing Ross words.

Ross nodded again. “I know.” He sighed. “Trott and Katie we’re the first people I ever told who didn’t react badly. Katie even came with me when I went to visit the first summer into uni. She pretended to be my girlfriend to shut them up and to convince them to leave me alone most of the time, they didn’t expect me to go home a lot because they assumed I would want to be spending all my time with my girlfriend and they encouraged it.” Ross chuckled to himself. “My dad even sent me a load of extra money at the beginning of second year, told me to take Katie somewhere nice for our anniversary. We used the money to buy a second hand PS3 for the flat, spent so many nights playing split screen COD with Katie and Trott on it.” 

Smith reached out and took Ross’ hand, lacing their fingers together. “I never knew my dad.” Smith said quietly. “His name isn’t even on my birth certificate.” Ross stayed quiet, simply squeezing Smith’s fingers slightly to encourage him to continue. “I don’t think she ever really wanted me. I was only appreciated when it suited her and as I got older that seemed to be less and less.” He explained. 

Ross resisted the urge to comfort him by saying that Smith’s observations couldn’t be true. “So what Lewis said?” He asked instead, when Smith had been silent for almost a full minute. 

“Was true.” Smith answered. “I was thirteen and one day I came home from school and she was gone. She didn’t leave a note or say anything before she went, just left me and didn’t come back.” 

“What did you do?” Ross asked, coaxing him further. 

Smith wet his lips and continued, eyes locked on the middle distance. “I carried on as I had been. Pretended nothing was wrong, kept going to school and living in the house.” He said. “I already had a couple of paper rounds to pay for things that she would never buy for me and so I picked up a few more to pay for extra stuff.” 

“How long did you live like that?” Ross asked. 

Smith ran a hand through his hair. “The council starting letters two months in because no rent or council tax had been paid. They starting coming around knocking on the door after another month but I just ignored the door and took to hopping fences out the back to get in and out rather than use the front door.” He said. “At seven months they sent in the police for a forced eviction.” Smith paused and sighed. “They came in at like two in the morning, I didn’t have a chance to get away.” 

“What did they do?” 

“Took me to a kid’s home whilst they looked for her. Tom was my only friend and even he hadn’t known that she had gone.” Smith answered. “They figured it out eventually, that she had just left me there and wasn’t coming back for me.” He continued. “Spent the next three years bouncing around foster places and group homes before I got into a halfway house at 16 and went to college to try and get into uni.” 

“I didn’t realise you knew Tom for that long.” Ross admitted. 

Smith nodded. “We met the first day in high school, became friends. By year 8 we were inseparable and we stayed that way. Went to the same college and then uni together, second year we moved out of halls and got a flat together. The most time we spent without seeing each other was a week or two in the summer when he would go visit his parents.” 

Ross worried his lower lip for a moment as they both descended into silence and their own thoughts, looking out at the view before them with their hands still linked.


	28. The other side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry that it has taken me 7 months to carry on with this thing. I really hope it hasn't been too long to have lost interest to everyone who said they were enjoying it. 
> 
> Please let me know if you are still reading this by dropping me a comment, even if it is to shout at me for leaving it so long. 
> 
> Much love
> 
> Vex 
> 
> xxx

It had been more terrifying than her nightmares had ever insisted. No amount of waking up in the night in cold sweats with her heart racing could prepare her for the actuality of it. Nightmares could never do justice to the sheer panic, to the way that everything happened in slow motion but too fast at the same time. Dreams didn’t include the smells of rotting flesh or fresh blood, they didn’t keep the sound of peoples screams echoing inside her head long after the person making them had been ripped to shreds and they most certainly did not give her the feeling of complete and utter numbness that she was feeling at that moment. 

 

Everyone knew what was outside the bases, what they were hiding from inside the thick, tall walls made of wood and metal and anything else they could find back at the beginning of this hell scape. Knowing something logically and seeing it first hand was something different entirely, to be presented with the stark truth of this new world that she suddenly found herself in had shook every single cell in her body and made her want to hide under the covers of her now non-existent bed until the nightmare passed and the monsters went back to lingering in the cupboard instead of out in the world where anyone could see. 

 

Yet, even though this was the shape of the world that she found herself in, it was not the most pressing issue and hadn't been for weeks now. 

 

********** 

 

The darkness was all encompassing. So much so that she wasn’t really sure if her eyes were open or not. The adrenaline had faded hours ago, leaving a heavy exhaustion that went from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and made it hard for her to keep her eyes open even though she was still terrified. The only thing keeping her awake was the still slightly ragged breathing of the other person in the room. 

 

Everything ached. Her feet, her legs, her arms, her head all throbbing with every pump of her still miraculously beating heart. The room was too warm but she didn’t dare to even twitch, couldn’t bring herself to make her arms move to shrug out of her heavy coat even as sweat continued to bead across her forehead, roll down her nose and drip off her face. 

 

The pair stayed like that, unnaturally still in the complete blackness of the too hot room, not speaking until another hour of silence passed outside. 

 

"They're gone." The voice was female, slightly accented with a Scottish lilt as if whoever had spoken had picked it up later in life rather than being native. "Have you got the lighter?" 

 

The flame that was produced was small but still made both women wince against it after so long in the dark. It took a moment for the old lantern to be lit but once it was, yellow light seemed to flood the room they found themselves in. 

 

The smaller one shrugged out of her coat, pulling at her t shirt in a steady rhythm to try and get some cooler air to puff over the skin underneath. Her black hair was lank and dull, with a small hand she pushed it away from her face and tucked it behind her ears. "We can't stay here." Kim said looking to the other woman in the room with her. 

 

"I know." The redhead said, her voice more heavily accented. She leaning back against the wall after ridding herself of her own coat before continuing. "But they’ve probably posted guards at the exits." 

 

Kim slid her back down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. "Well we don’t have any air vents to crawl through." 

 

Katie huffed an amused breath through her nose. "There are ceiling tiles though." She replied in a quiet voice indicative of her thinking out loud rather than seriously suggesting it as a viable escape route. 

 

The woman on the floor tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling. "Which would be great if either of us was taller than a hobbit." 

 

Katie raised her brows at Kim. "Some of us are over five feet tall." 

 

"Fine." Kim said before adding to her assessment. "I'm the hobbit and you're a hobbit on a foot stool." 

 

The redhead nodded as if satisfied with the correction. "You think the others made it out?" 

 

Kim didn’t meet her eyes and shook her head. "I would be surprised if they did." 

 

Silence descended upon the two for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts about those that they had started the day with and now had more than likely lost forever. 

 

Katie broke the silence with a sigh and stepped over to the door, opening it a crack to peer outside into the classroom. 

 

They had made it to the high school when they had finally lost their pursuers, winding through street and alleys before barrelling through a side door that went into the kitchens. From there they had tried to be quiet, speed walking through the corridors until they were deep inside the building and finally came to a stop when they had locked themselves into a teacher's store cupboard. 

 

"Clear." Katie said, pushing the door open further and venturing out into the classroom. Kim lowered the flame on the lantern and placed it on the desk at the front of the room. 

 

"This was all my fault." Kim said, practically collapsing back into the chair behind the desk. "If I hadn't said anything-" 

 

"Shut up." Katie said, cutting her off. "They knew exactly where to look for us, they knew all the escape routes and they knew when to hit. That wasn’t your fault." 

 

"Then whose was it?" The question wasn’t accusatory or defiant, it was contemplative and tinged in sadness. "Someone gave us away." 

 

Katie nodded. "It's the best explanation for how they found us." She admitted. "But who would have sold us out like that?" 

 

"Someone with a penis." Kim answered as soon as the last word left Katie's mouth. "No woman would do that." The shorter girl eyed her friend to see her reaction and was satisfied when she didn’t get argued with. 

 

********** 

 

The pair waited until nightfall to move out of the classroom. Both women tucking their hair away under hats and hoods to try and hide their identities. They moved slowly and quietly, sticking to the shadows and moving through the school until they reached a room with large windows that they opened in small increments, ducking down and listening often to make sure they hadn't been spotted. 

 

It took ten minutes before they had opened it enough to slip through into the night, sneaking around the buildings until they could hop the fence into the small wooded area to the south of the sports field. 

 

An hour later they had manged to wind their way through town and to the one remaining safe place they still had, one that only they and Kim's two closest friends knew about. 

 

Both women were pounced on by a third as soon as they entered the building. "Thank fuck you two are okay." Kat said, grappling them both into a hug, one arm around each woman's neck. "We thought for sure that they got you." 

 

Kim hugged back, hard. "Do you know if anyone else-?" She didn’t finish the question, couldn’t really. 

 

Kat released them and took a step back. "Liam didn’t make it." She said gently, looking square at Katie with sorrow in her eyes. 

 

Katie felt her eyes fill with tears but held them back by scrubbing at her face for a second and taking a couple of deep breaths. "He saved us." She stated. "Sacrificed himself for us so we could get away." 

 

Kat nodded in understanding and was silent for a few moments before she carried on informing the others of the state of affairs. "Matt checked in but had to go back and finish his shift." She continued as if making a report. "We lost track of Zoey, Fiona and Ben." 

 

Kim slammed her backpack down on the floor as if it was the source of her anger. 

 

"They might still come back." Katie said quietly. 

 

"If they're not back by now then they aren't coming back." Kim shot back. 

 

"They could be hiding out like we did." Katie countered. "It's not like they even know this is here and if they figured out that the old hideouts aren't safe anymore then they could be out there still. They don’t know about this place." 

 

"And if that’s true then we have no way of contacting them anyway." Kim said. "They're gone either way." 

 

Katie grit her teeth but didn’t argue further, the last thing she wanted was a blow out with Kim. She got it, she did. It was hard and horrible and being optimistic was fucking difficult but Kim had become more and more pessimistic recently and Katie was worried that soon Kim would be lost too, not to the regime in the base but to her own dark thoughts and defeatist attitude. It would only be a matter of time before her attitude got her captured or killed. 

 

"I'm going to clean up." Katie announced, walking passed the other two and up the stairs in the hall. She made her way to the bathroom and lit the couple of candles that had been placed on the edge of the sink in front of the mirror and closed the door. 

 

She tore the hair tie out of her hair, yanking a good few strands with it and barely wincing at the pain. Her long hair fell in waves almost down to her waist and she used her fingers to comb through it as best she could. Dirt and dust clung to her pale face where she had been scrubbing at it in frustration making her look almost like she had a five o'clock shadow. 

 

It was scary, it was frustrating and it was downright backwards what was going on in the base. No amount of history lessons or tame first-hand experience that boiled down to wolf whistles in the street compared even slightly to the terror of being hunted and preyed on by the majority of people left inside. Never in her life had Katie wished to be anything but who she was, a lifetime of privilege meaning she didn’t have to fear the kind of prejudice that led to violence and terror. 

 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right and it was utterly horrific that so many people were on the other side. That so many bowed to their leader and did his bidding, hunting down their own – their friends, family and neighbours. 

 

That was the true evil in Katie's opinion. It wasn’t the hordes of infected that roamed outside the wall, killing and eating anything living they could find. The infected were secondary, the infected didn't have higher function, they didn’t have a choice or reasoning to know what they did was wrong. The infected were instinct and primal rage and hunger, the infected were beasts or animals or demons who could only comply with their nature. The humans were not. The humans had a choice and they were choosing wrong. They were choosing to do the things they did, choosing to follow the mad man who lorded himself over the base, choosing to go along and help him commit monstrous acts. Choosing to give up their morals and humanity just to survive. 

 

They could have done it too, those resisting. They could have given in and gritted their teeth just to ensure they would not die, but not dying and living were two completely different things to Katie. To give in to them, to submit to what they wanted from her would be worse than death, it would be a torture too cruel to be able to live with herself and she knew if she was ever caught alive that she would make sure she didn’t stay in that state for long. If she was caught then death was the only option.


	29. Dress up

Kim had lost everything. Everyone. That’s what she kept telling herself anyway. There was no way to know if her family on the other side of the world was alive and safe or if the communications ceasing all those months ago meant that they were gone. 

 

When the silence had first come, Katie had told her to have hope. Kim wasn’t entirely sure if the fact that Katie had stopped saying this recently was a good thing or not. The dark-haired woman had never given this assurance back to Katie when all the other bases that they had still been in contact with went silent. Kim didn’t try to placate her friend, didn’t try to convince her that Chris and Ross and everyone else down south were safe. She couldn’t, because she was certain it wasn’t true. 

 

There was only this, this base. This was the world now, and the others, the ones who still believed and clung onto that hope were being ridiculous. It was better to accept and fight than to fight for something that wasn’t real, because when it came down to it and the truth was exposed they would be more lost than if they had given in. 

 

Kim woke when Matt returned mid-morning, the sound of doors being opened, even quietly was all that was needed to bring her out of her dreams. Katie was already up, sitting with Kat at the table in the darkened room. Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Kim pushed herself up from her makeshift bed in the corner and went to join the group. 

 

Matt didn’t greet them before jumping right into the issue from the night before. "It was Rythian." 

 

Katie shook her head. "No. He wouldn’t." 

 

Matt sighed. "They captured him a couple of days ago." 

 

"They broke him." Kim supplied, her voice flat. 

 

Matt nodded at her. "They tortured him, killed Zylus in front of him. They promised him that none of us would be hurt and that Zoey wouldn’t be turned over for breeding." 

 

"And the rest of us?" Kat asked. 

 

"They wouldn’t have kept any such promises." Matt stated not really answering the question. 

 

Kat practically growled. "I fucking know that, but he didn’t even try to fucking bargain for us too?" She said gesturing at herself, Kim and Katie. 

 

Matt didn’t answer verbally, just looked down at his shoes. "I don’t think it's safe for any of you go to out there anymore." 

 

Kim snorted. "I am not just going to sit here and rot in this house for the rest of my life." 

 

Matt looked up again, meeting Kim's eye. "They've locked down most of the women, they can't leave 'central command'. If any of you are spotted out there from now on, no one will hesitate to take you in. He's offering breeding privileges to anyone who brings a woman in, no matter their status." 

 

Kim noticed Katie slumping further down in her seat as Kat frowned. "Then we'll have to be even more careful not to be spotted." Kat said. 

 

Matt shook his head rapidly, striding over to where Kat sat. Matt lowered himself to his knees in front of her and took her hands in his. "You can't go out there, I can't lose you too." 

 

Kim looked away from the couple as they spoke, wheels turning in her head to try and come up with a solution to the problem they found themselves presented with. 

 

"You're the only one here who can go out there." Kat argued. "We need the rest of us that are left and to bring them here." 

 

"We don’t even know if there are any of us left." Matt replied. 

 

Katie interrupted. "There has to be." She said. "There would have been a report and rumours spread for you to hear if they had been captured or killed." 

 

She was right. Whenever the regime captured or killed any rebels they would announce it to the troops and those loyal to them. 

 

Kim suddenly stood up without a word to the others and stomped up the stairs and into the bathroom. She stared at her face in the mirror. 

 

It wouldn’t be hard and it wasn’t like she really cared that much about her hair anyway. The shape of her face may be a slight problem and her stature wasn’t exactly going in her favour but she had been mistaken for a young boy too many times in her life not to find it a plus in the moment. 

 

Gathering her hair up into a loose ponytail high on her head, Kim brought the scissors up, having to readjust a few times as she tried to use the mirror to guide her hand. Cutting through was harder than she thought it would be, the scissors not sharp enough which led to her basically hacking at the hair until she pulled it away. What was left was an uneven mess of black that mostly stayed in position due to the fact she still had not bathed since coming back. 

 

With quick strides she exited the room and into the one next to it that held what was left of their supplies. Kim rummaged through for a while, pulling out clothes and setting them aside before finally coming across the object she had been looking for in the first place. 

 

Locking herself back in the bathroom Kim stripped off her t shirt and clicked on the clippers still clutched in her one hand. The vibrations travelled up her arm as he took a deep breath and got to work. 

 

********* 

 

Katie sighed heavily when she heard the bathroom door shut upstairs. "She's getting worse." 

 

"I didn’t think that was possible." Matt joked with a small smile. 

 

Neither of the women laughed or commented. The group slipped into silence for a few minutes as they got lost in images and speculations in their own heads as to what had happened. 

 

"We need to get out of here." Kat said suddenly. "Out of the whole base." She clarified when no one said anything. 

 

"Did you forget about the flesh-eating zombies out here?" Matt asked. "It's safer here." 

 

"For you maybe." Kat replied. She paused for a moment before continuing. "We can't keep hiding here, they keep closing in and every time its closer and closer to us all being captured." When Matt did nothing but stood up from his previous position on the floor in front of Kat, she carried on speaking. "I can't survive like this much longer, worrying about everything, having nightmares of what they'll do to me and Katie and Kim if they capture us. What they'd do to you if they found out you're helping us." The last sentence was aimed at Matt and he almost visibly flinched at the connotations of it. 

 

They all knew what would happen to the women if they were captured, they were never damaged if it could be helped and even if they needed discipline it would be with something that wouldn’t restrict their abilities to have children. Kim often said that if she was captured she would end her life, that what they would want to do to her was worse than death. They also knew what happened to traitors. Traitors to the regime were tortured for as long as their bodies could stand it before being publicly executed and their mangled corpses displayed for all to see outside central command. 

 

Matt knew he was walking a very thin tightrope. He could be discovered at any point, he risked it every time he went out and did their bidding. More than once he had let someone go when he shouldn’t have but had been lucky to not be seen doing so by other loyalists. His record of not bringing in a single prisoner was beginning to get suspicious to his superiors and there was only so long he could get away with seeming like an incompetent idiot before he was either cut down for that alone or found out that he was in fact a traitor. 

 

"She's right." Katie said agreeing with Kat's assessment. "You said the sentries have been reporting a drop in numbers around the base." She said, turning to face Matt. 

 

Matt sat down heavily onto the chair next to Kat and across from Katie. "Well yes, but I don’t know what the drop is. It could be three hundred verses five hundred. I've never been posted to the walls." 

 

"Does that stop you going up there to check?" Katie asked. 

 

The man shook his head. "I'm pretty much allowed wherever I want, except in central command." 

 

Kat sat back in her chair. "Then you need to go and check over the next few days, see what it's like. Get a lay of the land." 

 

"That doesn’t solve the problem of how to get out. Every exit is blocked and patrolled." Matt argued. "Not to mention, where the hell we're going to run to?" 

 

Katie looked down at her hands in her lap as she answered. "South." She said. "We head south and play it by ear. Try to find other bases and see if they really are gone." 

 

"Katie." Kat said gently. "We can't rely on a hunch." 

 

Katie looked up at her friend, her eyes slightly narrowed. "I know you think I'm some naive little optimistic idiot, I know you all look at me like I'm some kind of child for holding out some form of hope that Chris is alive but until I see his dead body with my own eyes, I won't believe it and I'll do what I can to find him." 

 

"You'll be needing this then." None of the three had seemed to hear that Kim had made her way back downstairs. Katie flinched as the heavy set of hair clippers were dropped to the table before she turned to Kim. 

 

The smaller girl was swamped in a too large hoody and baggy jeans that bunched up over the heavy looking combat boots that she wore. Her hair was gone, shaved off until it looked more like a darkening of her scalp than actual hair. The implications of Kim's new look was not lost on Katie. Kim had done what none of them had thought of, hiding in plain sight. Even close up it would have been hard pressed for someone who didn’t know Kim to realise that she was in fact a grown woman. 

 

"Tonight, we go out and try to find the others." Kim said, her voice commanding. "Regardless of whether we find them or not, we start looking for an escape route and we're gone by the end of the week." 

 

Matt stared at Kim, disapproval clear across his features. 

 

Kat snatched up the clippers and stood, grabbing Katie by the arm as she rounded the table. "Come on." She said. "Let's go play dress up and hair dressers." 

 

Katie rolled her eyes at Kat's choice of words but let herself be pulled from the chair and out of the room. 

 

Matt continued to glare at Kim after the other two had left. "If this gets them killed, it's on you." 

 

"And you'll never forgive me." Kim said. "Yeah, I know." 

 

"Are you just completely set on this whole self-destruction thing or is there an actual point in me continuing to put energy into stopping you?" Matt asked, his voice even and steady. 

 

Kim smiled at him for the first time in what felt like weeks. "It's not self-destruction." Kim said back to him. "I may have given up on the world but I haven't given up on you guys or that it could get better for you all. It's about saving them, not killing myself." 

 

Matt raised an eyebrow. "But if you die in the process?" Kim merely shrugged at him. "You are the absolute epitome of clueless, Richards." Again, Kim didn’t really respond to the insult. "They still think they can save you." 

 

Kim snorted a laugh. "Save me?" 

 

"Yes, you. The unresponsive one who they’ve watched become less and less like the person they remember. They think they can get through this with you and that one day you'll heal and come back to them." 

 

"That’s not how it works." Kim replied. 

 

Matt pushed himself to his feet in exasperation. "For Christ's sake Kimberly!" He practically shouted. "We're your friends, we care if you fucking live or die even if you don’t." 

 

Kim stood stock still as Matt approached her, her eyes downcast at her boots. Matt came to stand in front of her, both hands on her shoulders. "Please, Kim." He said quietly. "We all need each other here." 

 

Kim blinked, trying to clear the tears welling up in her eyes before looking up into her friend's face. "I'm so scared all the time, Matt. I can't do this anymore." 

 

Matt pulled the smaller body closer to his, wrapping his arms around her so he wouldn’t have to look at the pain and misery on her face. "You don’t need to be the strong one all the time." He whispered. 

 

Sobs punctuated the silence of the room and Matt knew that he had finally got through to her. After months of worry and stress over the smallest of their group he finally felt like something was going in the right direction with her. 

 

Kim clung to him, letting every single tear fall as she fought for breath with her face pressed against his chest. She shook with the intensity of her cries but Matt just held her tightly, whispering words that she didn’t always hear as a feeling of lightness, almost like a slither of hope rested near her heart.


End file.
